Breaking Barriers
by MassEffectBountyHunter
Summary: Mikael Murdock works as a gun for hire to secure a future for his niece, but when time starts to run out, Mikael has to speed up the process. Needing a vast sum of credits in a short amount of time, Mikael accepts a contract for the most wanted criminal in the galaxy: Subject Zero. Little does he know, he'll find himself along the way . . . (Rated a hard T, subject to change)
1. Prologue: KF Crusader

**Breaking Barriers**

The firefight had irretrievably begun aboard the _KF_ _Crusader_.

Free lancer Mikael Murdock took up his position with the _Crusader's _other hirelings as the pirates attached a space bridge to the airlock. In total, the _Crusader _had employed ten bodyguards so to speak. Fitted amongst rookies and no-names, Murdock found himself out of place. But nowhere near as out of place as his long-time friend, Zaeed Massani. Massani truly was the black sheep in a sea of white.

"Time to kick some ass, woohoo!" A skinhead kid exclaimed. The youth's age, awkward stance, and flimsy armor were pitiful to behold. Murdock exchanged a glance with Zaeed and shrugged as the kid drew his pistol and moved ahead of the group. The terribly young mercenary tucked himself against the airlock's steel door frame, grinning ear to ear. The rest of the group stared at him from alcoves along the ship's entrance corridor.

"Goddamn kid's gonna get himself killed," Zaeed muttered, making some of the other hirelings shift uneasily. One even tried to call the kid back, but shut up when the pirates reached the door. Pirate voices become audible as a drilling laser penetrated the door's top. All eyes zoned in on the laser as it slowly seared its way through steel. Minds raced, pulses accelerated, and perspiration dripped. Every merc on board tried to prepare themselves for what might come through the doors. Of the ten, only two managed to keep themselves calm and unfazed.

Unlike their comrades, who prepped their weapons early on, Zaeed and Murdock waited for the last second to click thermal rounds into their respective weapon chambers. The professional handling of their weapons eliminated chances of a gun jam. "Here we go, Jessie," Zaeed said, his calloused hand patted the side of his assault rifle. Murdock spared him an amused glance from across the corridor.

"Tell Jessie not to miss."

Zaeed's scarred face flashed a wicked smile before the _Crusader's _doors shrieked in agony and gave way. The stillness of the ship's entrance corridor shattered as gunfire erupted, filling the _Crusader _with inexhaustible violence. The sound of screaming, gunfire, and blood spray was deafening, but nothing Murdock wasn't used to.

Murdock leaned out and tapped the shotgun trigger once. The shotgun shook as a slug propelled itself through the gun's mechanisms and out into the chest of a batarian pirate. The pirate fell dead next to the kid by the door frame, who died in agony shortly after.

From there the battle raged on viciously without remorse.

Wave after wave of batarian pirates progressed steadily onto the _Crusader. _The fearless batarians shot left then right, their shotguns decimating anyone who dared shoot back. Blood stained the walls as a fat merc fell, followed by a bald merc. A well-placed pirate grenade then slaughtered at least three more men behind Murdock's position. Mercenary morale faltered as retreat became inevitable. Soon Zaeed, Murdock, and two other surviving mercenaries were flushed from the entrance corridor into the identical Bridge corridor. From there, they ran towards the ship's control center.

"Son of a bitch! We're all going to die," one merc yelled, alerting the _Crusader _crew members ahead. Both ship members were waiting in the ship's control center with pistols, but were quick to retreat at first sight of pirates. "Shit, guys, wait for me," the merc screamed, chasing after them down a separate hallway.

"AHHHH! Useless bastard," Zaeed shouted, waving a hand after the cowardly free lancer. Murdock yanked Massani into cover just as the pirates opened fire from the Bridge corridor. Thermal rounds peppered chairs, consoles, and terminal screens like an unrelenting rain. Their remaining comrade discovered shelter with his back against the control room's wall, his face grim as the bullets continued to storm. "Goddamn terrorists don't know when to fucking quit!" Murdock's grip loosened enough for Massani to stand from cover and shoot. As a result, two unsuspecting pirates crumpled to the ship's deck. "Ah ha, that's four, Mik! Looks like I'm walking out of this with half your pay."

Murdock smirked and shook his head. "Not on my watch! Watch this." The pirates slowed their approach into the control room and made use of their limited cover along the corridor's small alcoves. Such a tactic enabled Murdock to leave Zaeed for the wall across from the other mercenary. Between them, the Bridge corridor yawned wide with pirates. Murdock stepped out of cover on cue with a pirate and fired. The pirate fell as Murdock whirled back into cover to nod at Zaeed, who rolled his one good eye.

"Lucky shot!"

The third mercenary smiled at their banter and leaned out like Murdock had previously done, only with very different results. With no pirates in sight, he hesitated and wavered, his assault rifle locked on the closest batarian shoulder. Murdock noticed far too late.

"LOOK OUT!" But as the words left his mouth, a bullet crashed into the man's skull. The sickening crunch of bone and brain resonated as the lifeless mercenary hit the deck with a thud. Murdock grimaced and looked to Zaeed who chuckled.

Massani had insisted they take the job for its danger. So far protecting the _KF Crusader _hadn't disappointed. But Murdock was starting to have doubts of survival.

"And then there were two! Let's make the bastards sorry they ever stepped foot on this ship!" Murdock nodded in solemn agreement. "On three we give the fuckers hell. 1 ... 2 ... 3!" Together both veterans shifted out of cover and unleashed a cascade of vengeance. Three pirates dropped, spewing blood. "BRING IT ON YOU SONS OF A BITCH!"

Murdock smiled at Zaeed's sick idea of fun and pumped his shotgun.

It was becoming apparent any hope of victory would require more firepower on their side. Firepower they presently lacked. Abruptly, Murdock had an idea. "_This is a Kassa Fabrication ship . . . So the cargo hold must have some state of the art weapons. Something to give us an edge."_

"Zaeed, let's make for the cargo hold! We can't hold em' here."

The former Blue Suns mercenary laughed harshly. "So what, we run down there and make sure the goddamn crew dies with us? Ah ha, I like it!" Murdock shook his head and Zaeed caught on. "Oh you tricky bastard you! Alright Mik, you go, I'll cover your ass."

"You gonna be able to hold them by yourself?"

"Do I look like some goddamn pushover? Go before I change my goddamn mind!"

With that, Murdock scrambled across the room for the elevator behind Zaeed. Pirate gunfire danced after him as he punched the elevator panel and took shelter within the elevator. He was amused to find his shields at half percent from the maneuver, and laughed. Still laughing, he managed to catch a glimpse of Zaeed before the elevator doors whooshed shut.

Zaeed Massani had winked.

* * *

The elevator trip felt like eons for Murdock. In the inconceivable amount of time aboard the sluggish elevator, he was able to check his weapons thrice over and even update a module on his omni-tool. _"Elevators still move like turtles and it's the year 2184 . . . Could have fooled me." _The elevator reached the bottom of the three floor vessel with a hiss. When the doors opened, the _Crusader's _crew frantically took aim. Murdock half smiled and walked out with his hands in the air. For a time, he kept his eyes closed in case someone got trigger happy. When that wasn't the case, he opened his eyes to find Captain Vanger.

"What's the situation on the bridge?" the captain demanded. His eyes wandered towards the ceiling in a suspicious manner. Murdock shook his head.

"Not good. Just Massani and I are holding them back now." Murdock surveyed the cargo hold. The large room was covered in tall, silver towers made of crates, some aligned as if to form bunkers. Those crates were where the crew held their ground with guns clumsily aimed. Murdock nodded to himself, suddenly weary. "Vanger, if we're going to survive this thing, Massani and I need a little extra firepower." The captain's expression was incredulous at the old mercenary's calmness.

"A-A little extra firepower? And just what do you mean by that? How are you so calm? I mean never mind that; I contracted you both with a bonus on Omega! That's more than anyone else I employed, what could you possi-," Murdock held up a hand to silence him.

"Yeah, you offered Massani and I more cash. Good thing too, because we're the only reason you find yourself breathing right now." He looked around at the crew's fear with a clenched jaw and nodded. "Now Vanger, if you want things to stay that way . . . ," Murdock moved to a crate and tapped it with his foot. "I'm going to need you to bust open one of these crates." The captain paled at the idea. His merchandise was essentially his currency, and by using it he lost potential income. Murdock patiently waited for the captain to choose life over death. "What's it gonna be?"

* * *

Murdock stepped back onto the elevator with a smug smile. The mercenary now held an M-100 grenade launcher, along with a plethora of grenades hooked to his belt.

Murdock returned to the ship's upper deck to find it in bloody disarray.

What had once been a ranged engagement, was now up close and personal. The pirates had met tenacious resistance in Zaeed however; their bodies scattered about the control room like forgotten toys. Murdock rushed out of the elevator to witness a blood-soaked Zaeed smash a pirate's face through a terminal. Zaeed turned to him with a mad grin.

"Ah, decided to come back did cha? Good, I've just been messing around with these bastards," Zaeed laughed, then pulled the helpless batarian into a choke hold. Murdock stared as the batarian's four eyes lost life, then spotted a desperate group of pirates blitzing down the Bridge corridor. He dived for cover while Zaeed dropped the dead batarian at the sound of boots. Zaeed found himself armed with only a pistol as the pirates entered the room. "Come on then! What're you waiting for!" Zaeed started shooting immediately and was ready to die at point-blank range when the grenade went off.

The explosive blew the pirates to bits and sent Zaeed sprawling to the floor. When Zaeed poked his disfigured head up in confusion, Murdock whistled. The ex-Blue Sun whipped his head at Murdock who portentously waved the grenade launcher with a smirk. Zaeed climbed to his feet and threw an arm at him, the remaining pirates retreating.

"Psh, too goddamn easy. That only counts as one."


	2. Disease

**Bioware owns all Mass Effect content.**

* * *

**Breaking Barriers**

The _KF Crusader_ returned to Earth in one piece thanks to the effort of its eldest mercenaries. In humble thanks, Captain Vanger added a large credit bonus to their contracts. He also promised to hire them again should the need ever arise.

Zaeed had scoffed at him, "Hire us again with a real challenge."

"Remind me to never ride in back of a Boston transit ever again," Zaeed groaned. Together the two aged men departed the transit station, each carrying a metal equipment case and duffel bag. Above them, the metropolis roared with a life of its own. Zaeed looked up and frowned. "New York ain't the only goddamn city that never sleeps now." The shadows of Boston's many skyscrapers blocked out the sun, casting an icy darkness over the city's ground level. Murdock found its cool kiss refreshing.

"Quit your whining, ya pussy," he replied, coming to a stop at the street corner. Zaeed shook with laughter as they crossed, neither bothering to check for ground-level traffic. "I mean it, you old coot."

"Bah, old my ass! I'm just getting started, Mik. But you're welcome to do whatever you goddamn want."

They reached the next corner and found themselves admiring a gun shop. Said gun shop appeared brand new, but was rather disappointing. Its quality of weapons on display through the glass were far less than what the two men were used to. They dealt with illegal gun trafficking, so to them, this shop was child's play. Murdock plucked a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it.

"Want one?" Zaeed shook his head somewhat reluctantly. "Ya sure?"

"Hell yes I'm sure! I quit years ago, hell, think it was when I was with the Suns." Zaeed fell quiet as they walked. The uncanny silence from the scarred man stretched on until he finally spoke again. "Those were the good ol' days goddammit." Murdock cocked an eyebrow, a stone bench surrounded by pigeons in sight ahead.

"The good ol' days? What good ol' days?" Zaeed smirked as Murdock seated himself on the bench and took a drag from his cancer stick. Zaeed proceeded to stand over Murdock, scanning his surroundings long enough for Murdock to question him. "Ya gonna sit? Or just stand there all day?"

Zaeed plopped next to Murdock on the bench, his luggage falling to the cement. "The good ol' days were when I ran the Blue Suns and didn't hire goddamn terrorists . . . Fucking Vido Santiago . . . He ruined the Blue Suns, that's what he did goddammit." Murdock smoked quietly, expecting another one of Zaeed's vengeance rants. He expected wrong. "I decided I'm taking on a bigger job, Mik."

Murdock nearly burnt himself with the end of the cigarette in surprise. His hazel eyes examined Zaeed carefully, checking for signs of humor. There were none. Zaeed Massani wasn't one to joke about jobs. He was a private contractor through and through these days. Every job he accepted, he finished no matter what. At that moment, Murdock realized Zaeed was rebuilding his mercenary career.

"And what job might that be?" Zaeed leaned back against the bench, his neck tattoo becoming clearly visible.

"I'm being employed by the galaxy's best goddamn information broker," he answered, not sparing Murdock a glance. The words alone told Murdock all he needed to know regarding the contract's significance.

"The Shadow Broker?"

"That's the one … Got in contact with him through an old acquaintance at Afterlife … A day before you showed up."

Murdock nodded, the finished cigarette falling from his hand. He then crushed it with the sole of his boot and lit another briskly. Zaeed watched the small flames consume the tobacco between Murdock's thick fingers. "I should have known something was up with you. You were acting different." Zaeed's gaze flicked to Murdock's face. "You were quieter. Less of a pain in the ass." Zaeed busted out loud with laughter as a wry smile slid onto Murdock's face.

"Ah shut up, you're the pain in _my ass_." Murdock dragged on his cigarette.

"Whatever you say."

Zaeed nodded to himself proudly. "Damn right what I say." The ex-Blue Sun fell into silence once more. The gears in his half-artificial head obviously turning, Murdock let him take the time to find the right words. Three minutes had passed when Zaeed abruptly stood. "Well Mik, it's been a goddamn pleasure."

Murdock put the cigarette in his mouth and leaped to his feet. He met Zaeed's strong handshake firmly. "Yeah, it's been a damn pleasure … Take care of yourself, alright?" He eyed his friend suspiciously, his intuition screaming. _"This could be the last time I ever see Zaeed Massani . . . Who would've thought." _Zaeed retracted his hand and lifted his luggage.

"Well, I've got a turian frigate to go take care of." He grinned ear to ear. "But no worries, I'll see you again Mik, this side or the other." With that, Zaeed spun on his heel and left. Murdock stayed standing to watch his friend disappear amongst the crowded sidewalk.

He hadn't heard from Zaeed Massani since.

* * *

Mikael Murdock spent the rest of his day traveling west via shuttle. He ended the day's journey in Cleveland, found a cheap hotel, and slept the night away. In the morning, he woke up, ate breakfast, and completed his journey over the bay and into Detroit.

The distorted metropolis was in no better shape than when he had left it.

Closest to the water, only the city's heart thrived with health. There sky traffic constantly buzzed and skyscrapers stood tall in the gleaming sunlight. The visible part of Detroit from a distance almost hid the city's true condition. _Almost. _Upon closer inspection of the city, say directly overhead, one would conclude the city was no better than Omega. Murdock could confirm this, he had visited both places one too many times in his life. Every trip to Detroit, it was a relief his brother chose to live downtown. It made Murdock feel better about his hometown, and lessened his desire to bomb it. The smoldering ruins surrounding the city's heart already looked to have experienced such an event. Such was the result of endless corruption from overinflated corporations.

Murdock's Cleveland shuttle dipped out of sky-traffic for what looked to be a gigantic glass pillar. Only as the shuttle drew closer in its descent could Murdock make out the pearly-white cement holding the structure upright. Camouflaged between the millions of windows and cement, there were also square-shaped balconies. The impressive landmark was home to his brother, as well as the once famous Murdock Corporation.

The shuttle soared straight to the tower's hangar, located in the structure's center. Murdock watched the hangar door slide open in a bored manner while the shuttle pilot gawked. "Have you ever been here before," the pilot had asked, "Because I never have!"

"I've been here too many times to count," Murdock grumbled back, quelling the pilot's excitement. The rest of the flight between the two was speechless.

Once parked inside the shuttle's vast hangar, Murdock climbed out of the shuttle with his luggage and paid the pilot. He was eager to get through security protocols and see his family, well, at least one member of his family.

The pilot thanked Murdock and flew out the same way he came in. By the time the shuttle escaped security radar, Murdock was staring a guard in the face at the hangar's ground checkpoint.

"Ah, you again," the guard said, looking him up and down. "You know the drill, throw your luggage on the scanner and give me your ID." Murdock obeyed, his mouth a line of content as the guard took his tower ID card. It took seconds for the scanner to beep in alarm at Murdock's packed weapons. The guard looked to the scanner operator in irritation, then drooped his gaze to the ID card.

The ID card was striped like a zebra; the name: **Mikael Murdock **printed clearly on the bottom in red lettering. Above the name, was the cropped image of a middle-aged man with long, thick dread-locks. His jaw was stout, his goatee dusty brown, and his nose bulbous, all of which matched the man standing before the guard. The only difference, was the fact that Murdock's hair had now faded to gray.

"Uh sir, we don't allow weapons on the premises." The nosy guard next to the scanner had opened the equipment case, Murdock frowned. The guard beside Murdock rolled his eyes.

"I think you can make an exception," Murdock replied. The scanner guard looked to his superior holding the ID card.

"No we can't make an exception! Are you slow in the head?" Murdock half smiled.

"Nope, are _you_?" The young guard swallowed, his blue eyes widened. Again he looked to his superior guard, who this time met his gaze and nodded.

In a minute's time, the equipment case was resealed and Murdock was allowed through the checkpoint. He found the elevator lobby at the end of the hallway and waited. He was contemplating having a cigarette when the elevator arrived gloriously empty.

Murdock jumped on board instantly, his index pushing floor 136 of 160. From there, he simply had to wait. And wait, as the elevator seemingly stopped every five floors. Soon the elevator filled to optimum capacity. _"I'd rather be fist fighting a krogan than stuck between these sweaty paper pushers." _But no matter how hard he wished for such, Murdock still found himself pinned in against the wall.

It was a miracle when the claustrophobic elevator dinged on floor 136.

"This would be my floor." he announced to the elevator occupants. All seven heads turned as one to look at him flabbergasted. No one had guessed he was the owner's brother. Hence, the decade-old hairdo had done its job. "So you know, if you'll excuse me that would be great." Seven pairs of feet shuffled aside, and one pair walked off the elevator. Murdock felt their stares burning holes in his back as he moved away. Such hot stares only subsided when the elevator hissed shut behind him. The grizzly bounty hunter then confronted another security checkpoint. This one granted him access to his final destination: the luxurious penthouse of Henrik Murdock.

* * *

The heavy steel door groaned aside to reveal something out of a fairy tale.

Rays of brilliant sunlight beamed through massive windows into the lavish living room spread ahead. The pricey white carpet drank up the sunlight and shined. The glass coffee table and nightstands had similar effects dealing with the bright sun, but nothing caught the sunlight better than Murdock. He approached the windows and ungracefully dropped his baggage with a thud. He was only able to enjoy the skyscraper's magnificent view in peace for a short amount of time. A ragged voice accompanied by infinite humming disturbed the tranquility.

"Ah, look what the cat dragged in," the voice croaked. "If it isn't my primitive brother! Finally come to your senses and stop whoring long enough to visit us? Or are you here to beg me for credits?" Murdock spun around and spotted his astute brother weaving his way through plush black furniture. The supposedly advanced wheelchair struggled, and Murdock didn't bother to help.

"Yeah, yeah, skip the pleasantries. Where's your daughter?" Henrik Murdock gave up on wheeling through the living room. Murdock pursed his lips as the wheelchair swiveled back to the extravagant kitchen tile. There Henrik turned to face him once more, pointy chin raised high.

"How the hell should I know? The girl goes where she wants undisputed. Much like her whore of a mother, if I do say so myself." Henrik's face had grown more gaunt since Mikael's last visit, the pale skin now coated in wrinkles. It was difficult to watch such dry, cracked lips move and bleed. Henrik was but a skeleton of his former self. "I assume you want me to fetch her somehow?"

Murdock nodded, Henrik already going deeper into the spacious penthouse. Murdock stepped off the living room carpet for the kitchen tile and heard Henrik activate his omni-tool. "Where is Abby?" his elder brother demanded. Murdock walked past his brother into the ludicrous kitchen, examining the new wares. _"Man owns a gourmet kitchen and doesn't even cook. If only his affluence would kill him one day." _

A feminine voice sounded on the omni-tool as Henrik started pouring a glass of champagne. He didn't even offer his younger brother a glass.

"She's downstairs, Sir. Do you need her for anything?" Henrik said nothing, so Mikael spoke loudly.

"Yeah, her uncle's here for a visit."

"Oh okay! I'll send her up right away, Mikael." Henrik glowered as he sipped from the glass. Mikael caught the glare and stared back unrelenting. The brothers remained in silence across from the kitchen's island. Only when the penthouse entrance moaned aside near the living room, did Henrik speak.

"Ah, there's the whore's daughter," he exclaimed, slamming his empty glass on the table. The man slunk away as anxious feet rushed thorough the living room. He waved a dismissive hand as he left the room, "Come find me when you're done enlightening the girl."

The kitchen felt desolate with his brother's absence, but was quickly blessed by a new-found warmth when _she _gripped his hand.

Overwhelming pure joy flooded from her hand to his. The fuzzy-warm sensations pricked his battle-worn body and lightened his mood like a lighthouse did for a sailor in a storm. Mikael venerated the girl and her impenetrable happiness. It was something so much of the galaxy lacked. _So rare . . . So beautiful . . ._

Mikael's despondence evaporated as the role of uncle assumed control, her voice ringing in his ears.

"Uncle Mikael, Uncle Mikael, Uncle Mikael! You're here, you're here! I never thought you were coming back, but now you're here! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I'm been waiting forever!" Mikael laughed and heaved the fragile girl into his arms. "EEEEEEEE! I love when you come to visit, Uncle Mikael!" Mikael pulled the girl away from his hug, letting her dangle in midair. He faked his crazed expression.

"What? You didn't think I was never coming back, did you?"

The girl giggled and slapped his cheek with a tender hand. "You always say that, Uncle Mikael! I knew you were coming back! Honest!"

Mikael lowered her to the kitchen tile grinning. "Oh baloney sausage, I do not always say that."

The little girl stomped her feet in petulance and poked his nose."You do too! You do too!"

"Nonsense! So how've you been, Abby?"

"Good! Daddy said I can get a puppy soon!"

Mikael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _"Henrik was such a cheat." _

"That's fantastic, sweetheart! Hey, whatta say we go get your coat and head up to the park? Eh, sound fun?" The girl shrieked with excitement, hugged his legs, and ran off to find her coat immediately. Mikael watched her run off with the brightest smile he could muster.

Abby did what no one else ever did for him . . . She gave him purpose.

* * *

As much as Mikael Murdock detested elevators, Abby always managed to sweeten the ride. Her cheerfulness was irreplaceable on such a mundane thirty floor voyage. Not to mention, Abby often warded off any employees from joining. Being with the owner's daughter had its perks.

"So how have you been sleeping, kiddo?"

Abby twirled a finger through her blonde hair and spun to face him. Her ocean-blue eyes were captivating, just like her mother's had been.

"I don't sleep much anymore at night, but Lisa says its just because I'm growing!" Murdock felt a sharpness in his chest, as if steel claws had clutched his heart. He sighed and scratched his head. "Uncle Mikael, is Lisa right?" The question caught him off guard.

"Yeah, kiddo, Lisa would know. She's had kids of her own ya know." The lie came out painfully, his eyes watering. Abby tilted her head in thought for a moment, then continued to bounce in excitement.

"Uncle Mikael, are we almost there? I wanna play! This takes too long!" The girl started banging on the walls. Mikael stopped her gently, a weak smile plastered on his face. She looked up at him, but noticed nothing out of place. The girl was too young to read a person in such ways. At this point in her life, it was best that way.

The elevator's ascent concluded two minutes later, and Abby raced from its confines like a rabbit on crack. She was halfway up the rooftop stairs when Murdock's foot touched the first step. He followed with a smile on his face. He emerged from the air conditioned staircase onto the building's flat roof spreading his arms. The midday sun's heat brought with it a euphoria Murdock had missed, but was also blinding. Murdock wished he remembered sunglasses as he searched to his right for Abby.

He spotted the girl running full speed towards a child's paradise.

Centered on the rooftop and taking up most of the available space, was an incredible tangle of playground instruments. Red-blue slides, tall plastic forts, monkey bars, and a throng of children were all encompassed in the playground spectacle. Murdock smiled as Abby joined their ranks, then looked to the benched parents who waved. He returned their gesture and found a bench to himself. He eased down onto the bench with a sigh, his hand setting a black ash tray beside him. The accessory drew the attention of a father nearby.

"Hey man, there's kids up here. You mind?"

Murdock stuck a cigarette between his lips and turned. His expression was lazy as he replied, "Not really."

"Well I got a problem with it. My kid's not getting cancer cause of some old fool, could you please do that somewhere else?" Murdock nodded slowly to himself, the man getting hopeful he would leave. That didn't happen.

"Can I ask you something?" Murdock lit the cigarette to the man's disgust. He exhaled in relaxation, as if the father was of no concern. "How many people did you kill yesterday?" The father was appalled.

"Uh, I don't really think that relates to-," Murdock cut him off.

"If I were to answer that question a few days ago, I'd respond with nine." Murdock dragged on the tobacco, his eyes locking with the father's. As the cigarette left his lips he continued, "You wouldn't want to be number ten this week, would you?"

The father gulped and switched benches, allowing Murdock to smoke undisturbed.

The two hours Murdock remained on the bench, he had four cigarettes, read ten newspaper articles on his omni-tool, and even searched the extranet for his next job. He found nothing of interest in the job search, but stood to call Abby away from her fun. She came to him giggling, the desire to play still flaring. It broke his heart to turn her down.

"But why not? Everyone else still gets to play! I don't wanna go inside yet!" Murdock grabbed her by the hand and led her to back the staircase. _"But they don't have the disease you have, Abby. Too much exposure could be deadly." _These words never left his mouth of course, and were substituted as always.

"Your father will have dinner ready soon, sweetheart." The lie satisfied Abby.

Twenty minutes later, the duo found themselves back in the penthouse. Henrik's cooks weren't in the kitchen yet, but Murdock kept Abby distracted enough not to notice. Dinner came almost three hours after their return, in which Henrik was absent as usual. Murdock succeeded in convincing Abby to eat a full plate of spaghetti before night fell, igniting Detroit's night life. After dinner, Murdock entertained Abby until her curfew with bedtime stories, and tucked her away in bed. It wasn't until the child fell into deep sleep that he removed the covers and lifted her shirt.

Beneath the soft fabric, he found Abby's condition had worsened. The pale girl's stomach was coated in tendrils of purple. The hard blotches of malnourishment stretched from her pelvis up to her navel, the skin stiff with disease. Murdock let the shirt fall and replaced the covers full of dismay. He left her room careful not to disrupt her wheezing sleep, and found Henrik on the penthouse balcony.

Henrik smoked his cigar without speaking as Mikael slurped in the view. Detroit's bright pinnacles decorated the evening with neon lights and steady sky-traffic. The buzz of constant nightlife took several minutes to grow old. Only then did Mikael seat himself next to his brother, lighting yet another cigarette.

"Is Abby asleep," the withered man asked. Mikael nodded after his initial drag.

"Yeah. I tucked her in a while ago."

Henrik ashed his cigar swiftly, his brow deepening. "Good. About time she went to bed on time. The girl never listens."

"You're welcome."

"Bah, save your courtesies for someone who cares. I'd much rather let Lisa handle the girl. She's too much trouble."

Mikael exhaled and watched the smoke funnel away."You realize that's what causes the rift between you two." Henrik waved a bony hand at him.

"Who cares. She's no daughter of mine." Mikael bit his lip in silence. _"Lying as always, brother." _Henrik opened his omni-tool and read through any new messages. He chortled when finished, shaking his head. "The company's running itself into the ground working with these freeloaders. ExoGeni hasn't repaid its debt yet, and neither has Guanghui Solutions."

"Since the Shepard incident on Feros, ExoGeni itself fell into debt. You can't expect them to meet their loan return on time. And Guanghui Solutions? Never heard of em'."

Henrik hummed in response."Guanghui Solutions are one of Bekenstein's mining firms. We got involved with them a few years back when they wanted to excavate Feynman. They promised to meet their loan payment last month."

"And?" Mikael took a long drag on his cigarette. He felt his chest tighten before exhaling.

"They've only paid back our investment by half."

"Nice. Suppose your taking it to court soon?"

"Damn right I am. Those bastards aren't worth varren shit. Charlatans, every one of them." Mikael shifted in his seat. The corporation bored him, but he allowed Henrik to complain the night away. It didn't take too long for Henrik to start on his health.

"Saw the doctor last week," Henrik muttered, abruptly changing topics. Mikael was used to his brother's brash transitions. Their personalities contrasted as much as their appearances did. Both had spent years adjusting to one another after their father's death in 2176.

"And? How long did he give you?" Mikael looked at his brother for the first time that evening.

Henrik's sunken eyes seemed darker than earlier, his thinning hair glowing white against the night's silhouette.

"Two weeks longer." Mikael didn't so much as flinch. "But no worries, I've taken the liberty of arranging my funeral preparations. You're not invited." That shot a smile across Mikael's face as he killed his second cigarette in the ashtray. "I've also selected a board to run the corporation, so no worries there either. Oh, and you're not a part of that either. So keep your nose out of it."

Mikael smirked, his gaze falling on Detroit's limited beauty.

"What about Abby? I trust you've started transferring credits into her account?" The delayed response set an alarm off in Mikael. Butterflies exploded in his stomach as Henrik let the silence simmer and stiffen. Impatience grew to frustration in a matter of heart beats. "Henrik?" His brother stared ahead without the slightest hint of answering him. This caused Mikael's pulse to quicken, adrenaline flaring. The silence wore on until Mikael stood and shoved his face against Henrik's. "Answer me." The wheelchair reeled back, Henrik's lips a tight line.

"No."

The answer obliterated Mikael's better judgment in a single stroke.

"What do you mean, no?" he demanded, striding forward. Again the wheel chair retreated, this time hitting the penthouse's glass door with a ting.

"I mean no, as in I have not." Mikael stared in disbelief, his jaw dropping. "The whore's daughter can fend for herself as far as I'm concerned. The company comes first, Mikael."

"Like hell it does! That girl in there is dying! She needs proper funding just to survive!" Henrik frowned.

"Mikael, do you remember what father told us that day? The day we both attended the board meeting in Stockholm?" Mikael shook his head, anger blocking his memory. "It was after the meeting finished that he addressed us both, telling us the company would always come first. He made it clear that day, that the only way our family company would survive in this life, is by taking full measures. No half measures, Mikael, only _full_ measures." Mikael could have snapped his neck on the spot, but relented.

"That was twenty years ago. For Abby, none of that matters."

Henrik's brows rose. "Oh but it does. That girl is a blight on civilization, her existence is a shame to the family name! She's nothing but a burden, Mikael. An expensive brat some dead whore left behind, nothing more." Henrik let the words sink in for effect. Mikael was shaking, his eyes alight with flame. "The company is what's important. It's our mark we leave behind on this world. It's how the galaxy will remember us!"

"Who cares what the galaxy thinks of the company? Inside that stuffy, arrogant house of yours is a dying six-year old girl. _Your _daughter for fuck's sake!"

"No, _not_ my daughter. The daughter of some dead whore." Henrik waved a hand and looked away in repulse. "I've transferred all saving accounts under my name into the corporation's funds."

"You what? You goddamn fool! That girl is your daughter, and she loves you! She shouldn't … But she does." Mikael spun away to face the mega-city below, his mind racing. "Reconsider your financing, leave her at least some of your fortune."

"Never," Henrik retorted. Mikael whipped around fast enough to make his hair swing. "The transfer is final. Nothing you say will change my mind. Besides, you left the company years ago. The decision isn't yours to make. It's mine. All mine."

Mikael considered throwing his brother off the balcony, but got cold feet again.

"I left the company in hopes that you would do the right thing and take care of your sick daughter. Had I known your monstrous plot, I never would have done such a thing."

Henrik gave him an amused look, furthering Mikael's anger. "But my dear incompetent little brother, you left for your own selfish reasons. You wanted to see the galaxy, explore, go on adventures, and just look where the hell that got you! No wife, no family, and no wealth. A pitiful life I'd say. Tell me, how is life as a common street thug? Is it fulfilling?"

Mikael pushed his face against Henrik's again, this time his brother couldn't escape.

"I hope you burn in hell, Henrik." Mikael moved away, stopping in the penthouse doorway. "And to answer your question? Working as mercenary to pay for my niece's medical bills? Yeah, it's been pretty fulfilling."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Sorry if this one was a bit slower. Please feel free to review too! It helps me know what's to like and not like about the story! Thanks for reading, see you all next time folks! **


	3. Saving Grace

**Bioware owns all Mass Effect content.**

* * *

**Breaking Barriers**

Mikael Murdock awoke on the living room couch the following morning. He sat up cautiously, as if expecting some sort of danger. He looked to his left, right, forward, and backwards before letting out a sigh. He ran a hand through his gnarly, knotted hair and threw off the thin blanket covering him. He didn't get any further off the couch when the usual morning soreness kicked in.

"Ah, fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth, reaching for the cramping calf. He pulled it towards him slowly, then made a fist and began kneading it. His knuckles proved effective in dismissing the cramp, but his back aches were untouchable. And to his great dismay, those aches were always the worst in the morning. _"Should hire a goddamn massage therapist every morning." _With that thought in his mind, he turned to face the morning sun. He had to squint at the large amount of glass panning before him as light poured through unchallenged. He straightened on the couch, mesmerized, by the sun's warm sting.

Murdock soaked in the sun for a few minutes longer before dressing himself. He pulled on the best clothing he owned, button-up shirt and all. When finished clothing himself, he checked himself and gave a nod. Next came his untidy hair, which he bundled atop his head to the best of his ability with hair ties. When that lengthy process was done, he completed the look with a set of reading glasses. Fully dressed for the day, he moved closer to the window hoping to catch sight of himself in the glare. He did, and flashed himself a smile.

Fifteen minutes later, the cooks arrived. Both cooks were hefty men with mustaches and dark skin, their tone friendly when they found Murdock in the extraordinary kitchen.

"Good morning, Sir. Did you and Abby find last night's dinner to your satisfaction?"

Murdock nodded instantly, granting a smile. "We did, thank you. This morning I'll have a French egg and bacon sandwich." He paused when the cooks exchanged a look. "You can prepare that, right?"

"Of course we can, Sir. It's just . . . Will Master Henrik be joining us this morning?"

Murdock checked the time on his omni-tool: 6:54 A.M.

"I would think not," he replied. The cooks nodded and bowed, then went straight to work preparing the requested breakfast. Murdock passed the time by reading new editions of gun magazines on his omni-tool. The cooks called him over just as Abby appeared rubbing her eyes.

"Uncle Mikae‒," she interrupted her own words with a yawn. The three men in the kitchen chuckled at her as she smiled sheepishly. "What's for breakfast?" Drowsiness evident, Murdock scooped the girl off her feet and into his arms. Together they entered the kitchen as Murdock's breakfast was laid out in the small dining room beyond. "Can I have eggs, Uncle Mikael?"

"You can have whatever you want, sweetheart. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Good," she managed, before yawning again. "I'm just hungry."

The cooks practically saluted at the word 'hungry'. "What would you like, Abby," they asked, almost in unison. Abby and Murdock laughed as the two men exchanged a humorous glance.

"I want . . . eggs and bacon!" the child exclaimed, after brief thought.

"Right away, Abby. We shall have it ready in but a couple minutes, sound good?"

"Yes! Can I eat with you, Uncle Mikael?"

Murdock didn't answer until he entered the gloomy dining room, setting her down on a chair next to his seat. "Yes you may."

Murdock waited for Abby's meal before biting into his breakfast sandwich, his eyes wandering the room. To his right was the glass door leading to the balcony he and Henrik had made use of last night. The rest of the room was ordinary, decorated with expensive paintings, wooden shelves, and authentic plants. "_So this is where Henrik eats his food. Surprised he didn't pay the cooks to poison me." _Such a thought went through his mind needlessly, as he ate both halves of his sandwich without difficulty. Abby was much too interested in her food for conversation, so Murdock sat quietly and waited. His patience pulled off as Henrik wheeled into the room a few minutes later, drawing Abby's attention.

"Good morning, daddy! Look, I had eggs and bacon!" She tilted the plate his way clumsily, almost spilling the half-eaten food. The bedraggled Henrik merely nodded, his staunch glare going right through the girl. He ignored both Mikael and Abby as he passed through the dining room into the kitchen, irritating Mikael. "Daddy must be sleepy. He just woke up."

"Yes he did, kiddo. Must have morning gas too."

Abby looked up at him with wide blue eyes, scrambled eggs smeared across her chin. She suddenly exploded with childish laughter, slamming her tiny fists on the table."Did you hear that, daddy? Uncle Mikael says you farted!" Mikael smiled at her as she continued to giggle and pick at her food.

Henrik joined them at the table a minute later, his face grim as ever.

"Morning, brother," Henrik said, his expression ambiguous. Mikael bobbed his head at him, the room's tension increasing. Abby was the only thing keeping them from clawing at each others' throats. When the cooks appeared to take empty dishes and deliver Henrik's breakfast, he gave the order. "Carlos, mind showing Abby how to use the dishwasher?"

One of the cooks froze in place at the table, Abby looking up at him. "Of course, Sir! It would be my pleasure!" He pulled Abby's chair away from the table for her convenience. "Come along, Abby, let's go find that dishwasher." Together they left the room, taking with them any happy vibes.

Henrik spoke first. "You've made yourself somewhat presentable . . . But hardly. Why? Plan on groveling at my feet for forgiveness? Or did you just want to look nice on your way out of my home, forever?"

Mikael leaned forward, clearing his throat. "Neither. I want full access to Abby's banking account."

Henrik's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "And just what do you plan on doing with that? There isn't a scrap of credits in there, not more than fifty."

Mikael shrugged. "I don't want full access for the money. I want full access to put credits in." Henrik straightened in his chair, shooting a glance at the occupied Abby through the kitchen doorway. "What's the problem, I don't see you using it." Henrik glared.

"Going to try and play hero, are you?" He barked out cruel laughter. "I'll tell you right now, her expenses are nothing you can afford."

Mikael shook his head, his face unamused. "That doesn't mean I can't try." That extinguished Henrik's brief humor, his wrinkled face tightening once more. "Give me full access, and you'll never hear or see from me again. I can promise you that."

Henrik snorted and waved a hand.

"With two weeks to live, you damn well better be able to promise that." Mikael half-smiled as silence ensued. Only Abby's eager learning voice was audible. Henrik shattered the silence abruptly, "Fine. You can have full access to the account. Go downstairs and talk to Lisa, she's managing my finances. Tell her what you need and she'll do it for you."

"Thank you."

"Bah, don't thank me, you failure. I'm going to laugh in my grave when you fail to save that girl, Mikael . . . But until then, I don't want to see your damn face in this life again. Leave my home, _now_, and never return." Mikael nodded and stood from the table. _"If only I could kill you myself, brother,"_ Mikael mused in his head.

"Fair enough. You will allow me to say goodbye to Abby, yes?" Henrik gave a curt nod, and said no more. Mikael lingered to watch his brother eat, then left his presence for the last time.

"And that's how you use the dishwasher," the cook finished, shutting the machine. Abby spun away from him to find Mikael beaming down at her. The remaining cook took note of her uncle and exited the penthouse.

"Uncle Mikael, Uncle Mikael, can we go back up to the park today?" She tugged at his pants' leg, making him smile sadly. At the speed of a turtle, he slumped to her height on one knee, grasping her shoulders. The girl inclined her head in confusion. "What is it, Uncle Mikael? You're not leaving again, are you?" Mikael sighed heavily, as if exhaling his very life force. For the longest moment, he couldn't even meet the child's eyes. His eyes watered when he found the inner strength to do so.

"I'm afraid so, kiddo. But don't worry, okay? I'll be back and see you real soon, okay?"

Abby's head dropped, her displeasure obvious. "Okay . . .. You promise?" Mikael lifted her chin to meet his gaze again. This time he smiled.

"I promise."

* * *

Murdock found Lisa a floor below the penthouse at her desk in the company archives. She was a professional-looking woman about his age, with tight lips, mousy brown eyes, and short black hair. Said woman flashed a pearly-white smile at his approach, her dextrous fingers typing away at her desk terminal.

"Good morning, Mikael. It's been a while," she said, her eyes locked on the technology rather than Murdock. Murdock fixed his shirt collar in discomfort and swallowed.

"Yes it has." He surveyed the archives behind her desk, mostly made up of terminals and security consoles. Only a select few files were actually put on paper, mostly contracts with other Earth-based companies, and dated newspapers. Regardless, the Murdock Corporation was a long standing business, and had decades of history. Financial analyses', media mentions, trade unions, tax reports, threats of strike, annual reports, all of this could be found behind Lisa. But none of it interested Murdock. His eyes flicked back to the woman at the desk. "How have you been?"

"Well enough I suppose." _Click. Click. Click. _Murdock stared at her work ethic in disbelief. _"If she doesn't work herself to death, I'll be shocked." Click. _"How about you?" Her gaze remained on the terminal screen.

"I've been alright."

"That's good," she replied, then hesitated. She set her eyes on him like dogs, meticulously searching his face for emotion. Murdock struggled to maintain his poker face. "You're dressed . . . nice. What's the occasion?"

"Uh, what I'm here for actually. Lisa, I need you to do two things for me." The woman's eyes burrowed into him, as if squeezing the air from his lungs. She then pursed her lips and turned away to type again. Murdock coughed for her attention, placing a had on her desk. "First of all, I need you to move Abby's banking account under my name and transfer this into the account." He lifted his hand to reveal a credit chit on her desk. Lisa was unable to resist looking at it.

"Henrik opened the account, unless I have direct confirmation from him, I can't do anything with it." Her resolve hardened when she met Murdock's dismal stare.

"Call him."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said call him if you're that damn concerned." Lisa gulped, encouraging Murdock to achieve his objective. Fear inspired him more than anything. It was all part of the adrenaline-rush.

"No, I think not. There's no need. I trust you, Mikael . . . Besides, Henrik hasn't deposited any credits in that account for some time now. It's almost been a year, actually."

_Henrik, you bastard. _

"Which is why all of this is being deposited," Murdock insisted, pushing the credit chit towards her.

The woman picked it up for inspection. "How much is it?"

"That's none of your business. Just hand over the account information and we can be done with this." Lisa lowered the credit chit and gave Murdock a look that made his blood run cold. Despite holding intimidation over her, he couldn't dismiss his past with the woman.

_"Never should have gotten involved. Women, nothing but trouble." _

"Very well, consider it done." She tapped the keyboard once without breaking their stare-down. "What else would you have of me?"

"I need you to arrange a meeting with Abby's prescribed doctor for me. Pretend I'm her father, that way they won't ask questions." Lisa blinked repetitively. "She's still at Detroit Municipal Hospital, yes?" Lisa tapped the credit chit against the desk lightly.

"Yes, she is . . . But Henrik hasn't attended any of her scheduled appointments for a year now. They may charge an extra fee for an unexpected visit, you are aware of this?"

"Yeah, whatever they charge can be paid with that credit chit," he replied, pointing at the device in her hand.

"Very well . . ." she hesitated once more. "Mikael, how many credits are on this?"

"A mercenary's life savings." Her eyes widened at the credit chit. "Now arrange the appointment." She stared at him like a petrified animal, but only for a moment. Murdock crossed his arms to watch her contact the hospital. It took a few minutes for her to get through.

"Hi this is Lisa Barnes, I represent Henrik Murdock for the Murdock Corporation. Yes, I would like to schedule an appointment regarding his daughter's treatment plan from here on . . . Okay, is Doctor Helms there today? Okay, good. Yes, I'm aware of the ordinance fee. Okay, what time works for Doctor Helms?" While her voice echoed, Murdock scrolled through his omni-tool contacts smiling. Lisa always came through for him. "Okay that sounds perfect. Thank you very much. He'll be there at noon today, yep, bub-bye." Lisa ended the omni-tool chat and looked to Murdock who sent off an omni-tool message of his own.

"Everything taken care of?" She nodded, her gaze cemented upon him. "Thank you, Lisa."

She swallowed, this time hard enough to gag. "You're welcome, Mikael." Murdock dipped his head at her, and made for the doorway. It was as he lifted his luggage that she spoke again, sending a shiver down his spine as he stopped in the doorway.

"Mikael . . ." He kept his back to her. "I want to apologize for what happened-," Murdock interrupted.

"Lisa, forget it. It's in the past, okay?" She hadn't expected him to whirl around, but when he did, she faltered. She gave a resigned sigh and put on a face of defeat.

"Okay," she whispered.

* * *

Mikael Murdock arrived at Detroit Municipal Hospital a half-hour early by transit. He disembarked the shuttle with his belongings in tow, and entered the enormous facility.

Inside he was greeted by heavy air conditioning, lots of shiny white surfaces, and plethora of people. The air smelt so clean, it nearly made him sick. Stuffy star-ships and Omega simply didn't agree with the cleanliness of Earth hospitals. Sad to say, it was almost too sanitary for Murdock. _Almost. _

Murdock stepped in line for the front desk and waited. He felt as if an hour had passed when he reached the receptionist. "Good day to you, Sir. How may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm here for an appointment." The receptionist smiled, spinning in her chair to face the bright orange terminal.

"Okay, Sir, all I need is your name and the doctor you're seeing today. Is this a check-up or a meeting?"

_"My ass that's all you need. I'll be walking out of this place with less money than a space monkey," _he wanted to say, but didn't. Instead he kept a calm demeanor.

"My name is Henrik Murdock. I'm here to see Doctor Helms," he paused, debating on whether or not to mention Abby. "I'm here to discuss my daughter's treatment plans," he decided to add.

"Oh yes of course, Mr. Murdock. Doctor Helms will see you right away, Sir." She jumped to her feet and waved an unoccupied male nurse over. The young man came quick as a cat, sparing Murdock but a glance. "Henry, will you please escort Mr. Murdock to Doctor Helm's office?" Murdock lowered his glasses at the male nurse in repulse. He was so lanky, young, and gay-looking . . .

_"The pink scrubs don't help his cause either." _

"Yes, right away, Ma'am. Mr. Murdock, if you'll please follow me." Murdock bobbed his head once, then shot a fake smile at the receptionist. She thought it genuine, making Murdock roll his eyes as he chased after his escort.

Together they trekked through endless white hallways, sometimes flanked by patient rooms and sometimes by glass. The glass often presented a view of the hospital's grassy courtyard, which looked pleasantly comfortable. Murdock longed to enjoy the courtyard's virtue but found himself constricted to Henry's hurried stride. Should he linger even for a second, there was a good chance he would lose his guide in the maze. And being lost in a hospital full of disease and emotions was not where he wanted to find himself alone. By the time Henry showed him Doctor Helm's office, hidden in the back wing of the hospital, Murdock had decided he disliked hospitals entirely.

"And there you are, Sir. Anything else you might need and I'm sure Doctor Helms will be able to assist you, mhmkay?" Murdock said nothing as Henry tapped the office door panel and smiled. "Have an excellent day, Sir!" Henry chimed, his feet already carrying him away.

The office door slid aside to reveal a preposterous office, filled with shelved collectibles, pricey furniture, a huge glass desk, and even an aquarium. Murdock stepped inside reluctantly, his eyes observing the room. The collectibles were mostly famous Alliance ships, but some were small doctor figurines. The most notable was a salarian holding a human infant by its foot. _"Wacky scientists," _Murdock thought, his gaze falling upon the large aquarium. The fish tank was so large, it cast a luminescent blue glow over the office, captivating anyone who visited. Murdock was no exception, his eyes trailing the colorful variety of fish as they swam aimlessly. When the brightest fish disappeared into the aquarium floor's coral, Doctor Helms made himself known.

"Mr. Murdock, I presume?" Murdock froze in place, the voice had surprised him. "Sorry, the aquarium tends to draw attention from me. Down here." Murdock shifted his gaze and found the short man seated at his desk, looking insignificant compared to the fish tank. "Please, have a seat." The doctor gestured at the plush lounge chair across from him. Murdock did as he was bid. "It's been awhile . . . So, where to begin . . ." The doctor wrung his hands together, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. He appeared nervous, intelligent, and lost all at once. "Well, first of all, how is she? Any new symptoms?"

Murdock shrugged his shoulders wearily, trying to think. Without being around her often, it was hard to give an accurate response. "Well, her sleep insomnia has worsened. And her skin continues to blacken, the marks have reached her stomach now. But other than that, she appears healthy."

"If only, Mr. Murdock, if only." The doctor rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes burrowing into the desk. Eventually they found their way to Murdock's. "Mr. Murdock, I'm afraid this disease is terminal. Abby has undergone every treatment plan imaginable, with little to no beneficial results. This tells us the disease is rare, and potentially very old. Some doctors are calling it an unidentified skin cancer and some believe it to be scleroderma. Regardless, even with _all_ our advancements in medical technology, we haven't found a cure for Abby's disease yet . . . It's simply flown under the radar, meaning there hasn't been a case like it in over a century."

Murdock's heart sank.

He shut his eyes, a spectrum of lights pounded the darkness beneath his eye lids. A headache rocked him as nausea formulated. Then his eyes flew open as a perspiration cracked his forehead, the need to vomit apparent. He cupped his mouth looking left then right in desperation, the doctor was blur of movement as he rushed to help. But just as Doctor Helms tossed the trash can onto Murdock's lap, the desire to puke vanished. Murdock sucked in ragged breaths, the doctor removing the trash can. Helm's voice only became audible when Murdock's blurry vision cleared. "Mr. Murdock, dear God, Henrik, are you all right? Henrik?"

He turned his head to the looming doctor as if wearing a neck brace. Terribly slow.

"I'm . . . alright. We can continue." The doctor nodded, eagerly returning to his desk. His ghost-white face attempted to regain color as he listened to Murdock begin his plea. "Surely there's something else we can do . . . Prolong the inevitable? Keep her alive long enough to find a cure, maybe?"

_ "COME ON, THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMETHING!" _Murdock wanted to scream, but forced such madness away.

Doctor Helms sighed. "We can attempt to do just that, Mr. Murdock. But the only reason I even make such an offer is because I'm aware you're someone with substantial income." The short man glanced at his collectibles, Murdock's woozy gaze followed. _"Toys aren't going to help us, Doc," _he wanted to snap, but instead listened. "Mr. Murdock, we have skin treatments that may be able to slow the disease's progress, but once those marks reach her chest, we believe it'll kill her. You see, the muscles are tightening beneath the skin, killing any blood cells and nourishment the body needs. When these black hemorrhages reach her chest, we have fears that the lungs will constrict. Even worse, the heart could freeze up and cause a heart attack. Look, with such vital organs in the path of the disease, her time is running out." Murdock gritted his teeth, refusing to slip into an abyss of hopelessness.

"Haven't you tried removing the skin?"

"Yes, that was treatment A, if you recall. We found the infected skin tissue has nothing to do with the disease, it's simply the most noticeable symptom. Thus, we believe the disease in genetic."

"So what do you propose we do, Doc?"

"I propose we return to treatment plan B. That plan seemed to stall the disease most efficiently." Murdock raised his brows.

"Okay, but what about finding a cure, Doc? I don't want this girl just live another year, I want her to_ survive_!" Doctor Helms flinched, a hand shooting to rub the back of his neck.

"Yes, yes, I know! Look, while we proceed with treatment plan B, I'll reach out to some of my more knowledgeable contacts. Maybe they can come in and help Abby, because I'm doing all I can." Murdock felt the fire inside die, his head drooping. "I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do."

"How much will it cost to prolong her lifespan?"

Doctor Helms swallowed. "The treatment itself is seven thousand credits a visit, monthly that's already reaching twenty-eight thousand. You can imagine the amount yearly."

_"Yeah, the absence of all credits I just put in." _

_"_Then there's the tax, of course," Dr. Helms added, giving an exhausted expression.

"Tax? How much does that add on?"

"Another two thousand, unfortunately. Mr. Murdock, prolonging life isn't necessarily cheap."

"Apparently not," Murdock said standing. "Treatment plan B it is. I'll have my representative get back to you on when to hold the first session." The doctor nodded at first, but when Murdock made for the door, he spoke again.

"Wait! There is one, other option . . ." Murdock felt the lines in his face tighten before spinning around.

"And what might that be?" Doctor Helms rubbed the back of his neck and pointed with a shaking finger. Murdock traced the finger with his eyes to the plague mounted above the collectibles. He approached cautiously, sparing the doctor a glance before reading the plaque:

_**Doctor Arnold Helms**_

"_**Michigan's Physician of the Year Award" **_

_**Awarded May 15**__**th**__**, 2183**_

"I didn't win that award myself, Mr. Murdock. I-I, had help . . . Alot of help . . ." Murdock approached him.

"From _who_?"

"An organization that could save your daughter's life." Helm's face was whiter than his lab coat as he said the words. Murdock's heart beat quickened, threatening to burst from his chest. "For me to direct you to them is highly illegal, however . . . So the cost would be steep."

"How much? I can match any price."

"When all is said and done . . . One million credits."

There was no hesitation.

"I'll do it."

* * *

Outside the hospital, Murdock crossed the street with his luggage making for the nearest transit station. He was out of the breath by the time he made it there, dropping his belongings.

"Sir, are you alright," a man asked. Murdock waved him off.

"Fine! Just fine!" Eyes watering and dread locks falling, Murdock brought up his omni-tool. He scrolled through the contacts with lightening speed and found Lisa Barnes, then initiated a message:

_**Earth Date: June 7**__**th**__**, 2184**_

_**Lisa, **_

_**I've arranged for Abby to resume her treatment plan at Detroit Municipal. Call and schedule a session immediately. Make sure you take her to every single one. PLEASE. I need to take off again for awhile, I'll explain everything later. **_

_**Mikael**_

Murdock lowered the omni-tool just as it emitted a beep. Gasping for breath, he stumbled onto a bench and brought the device back up to his face:

_**SENT: Earth Date June 7**__**th**__**, 2184**_

_**Hey, **_

_**This is Mikael Murdock, I'm looking for work. What's the biggest job available? I need huge payment. **_

_**Mikael**_

_**IN REPLY: Omega Cycle, 21:04, 2184**_

_**I keep hearing about a certain rogue biotic who's making a pretty big name. They call her 'Subject Zero.' Everyone's after her. The asari, hanar, turians, slavers, Blue Suns, even the Systems Alliance. She apparently brought down a space station last week. So she sounds like a real charmer. Last bounty I saw on her head was for two million credits issued by the hanar. Otherwise, there isn't much for 'huge payment'. Good hunting.**_

_**Anonymous Respondent, (Encrypted) **_

Murdock dropped his wrist and lit a cigarette. _"Better watch out, Subject Zero, because ready or not, here I come." _

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated, so thanks for those too guys! Story is really gonna pick up now, get ready! See you guys here next time! **


	4. Jelly Slave

**Bioware owns all Mass Effect content. **

* * *

**Breaking Barriers**

Murdock searched the extranet immediately after boarding a passenger ship off-world called _Voyager. _By searching 'Subject Zero', he discovered endless news stories, countless bounties, and lots of hype. Needing something to pass the time from Earth to the Citadel, he found such information invaluable. Using his omni-tool, he sat in his private passenger booth for hours reading like a bookworm. His only reasons for ever moving were to request food or use the bathroom, neither of which occurred very often. Overall, the experience proved intriguing, and he couldn't seem to stop reading.

From the endless news stories, he acquired basic knowledge about his target. She was apparently young, no older than thirty, and by the sounds of it, she stood out in a crowd. The woman was described as being heavily tattooed and lean, with average height. He also learned that she had led a violent life, her earliest recorded crimes spanning over eight years ago. The recorded crimes were nothing unusual, but made quite the list: murder, kidnapping, theft, piracy, and even vandalism, according to the hanar. That bit made him laugh out loud. _"The jellies would call destruction of a space station vandalism." _Despite the humor he found in that, it was also the reason for her biggest bounty, making the hanar is prime target for employment. To meet with such employers, he elected to find the hanar embassy on the Citadel. If they couldn't offer him a contract there, surely they could offer transportation to a superior who would.

Through the various news stories, Murdock also got a knack for how dangerous Subject Zero was. In some accounts the woman had torn star-ships apart with biotics alone, matching the strength of a revered asari justicar. In other accounts, such as police reports, those murdered by Zero were more often than not found mangled or mutilated. One report mentioned the entirety of a thirty-man cult being literally ripped apart. Said cult had originated from Omega and been causing havoc for years before dying at the hands of Zero. The images of the dead cult were enough to nearly make Murdock regurgitate his last meal. It was only a few minutes after viewing the images that he learned Zero had actually been part of the cult. That bit made his blood run cold.

For the first time since departing Earth, he began to have doubts. By far Zero outmatched any bounty he had ever dealt with. Not even Zaeed could boast about hunting such a monster, and that man had survived a bullet to the head. Murdock's doubts gnawed at him all the way to the Citadel.

As the _Voyager _docked, he gathered his belongings and mentally prepared himself. Failure wasn't an option, and every thought of Abby reminded him. _"I refuse to fail her." _

With the thought clear in his mind, he stepped off the _Voyager _and submerged himself neck deep in the Citadel Customs line. The process amongst a host of species, took nearly an hour to get through. Nonetheless, he emerged unhindered and found the nearest transit station. From there he went straight to the Presidium Embassies, his mind too focused to enjoy the Citadel's sights and smells.

"Hello, Sir. Please speak your name and business with the Embassies so I may assist you as quickly as possible," the asari receptionist greeted. Murdock was exhausted from non-stop travel, but kept his composure.

"I need to see the hanar embassies as soon as possible." The receptionist nodded, her blue fingers dancing across the terminal keyboard. Murdock explored his surroundings while she did so, his eyes finding the presidium lake most attractive. For being completely fake and artificial, it's sparkling beauty was enchanting. It was hard to tear his gaze away when the receptionist spoke again.

"The hanar embassies are available at your convenience. They welcome you. Should I let them know you're on your way up?"

"Please."

She typed swiftly, then smiled. "Consider it done. They await your presence." Murdock nodded his thanks, and made for the stairs only to halt. He turned back to ask for directions, but the asari was already pointing the way he started. Nodding his thanks again, Murdock walked to the stairs and found a turian C-Sec officer on guard duty. Murdock stopped mid-stride, the avian alien already scanning him. The turian's predator eyes narrowed at his metal equipment case. Murdock followed his gaze down to it.

"Sir, scanners are detecting weapons in that case. Are you carrying weapons?"

"Yeah, I am. What's it to you?" Murdock looked back up at the turian lazily. The turian's jaw tightened in response, his body projecting authority.

"In that case, I'm going to need to confiscate it until your business is finished here." Murdock handed the officer his case, then looked to his duffel bag. "I won't be needing that," the turian assured him.

"Like I care, you can hold on to it for me." Murdock threw the bag at him. The turian just barely caught the bag, his expression bitter as Murdock ascended the stairs. "You'd make a good door man," he called back down without looking. The turian glared after him as he smirked and continued walking.

Upon reaching the top and entering the embassies office hallway, Murdock already found himself annoyed. Citadel hustle and bustle just wasn't his thing. He hated politics, and despised heavy populated areas. Heavily alien populated areas in particular. The differing cultures always clashed and led to unnecessary debates, at least in his opinion.

Murdock wandered past the C-Sec Executor's office and volus embassy before spying the hanar embassy on his left. He wasted no time hitting the door panel, and stepping inside.

The embassy interior was sparse, bland, and extremely clean. It also contained an incredible view of the presidium lake through a glass window covering the room's majority. This was the only typical thing one might find in a room, because unlike most species, the hanar did not possess thumbs. This made the room unfriendly for Murdock, because other than three hanar floating around a white 'U' shaped desk, the room was quite empty. There wasn't even a proper chair to sit in. _"Damn jellies,"_ he thought, coming to stop between the 'U' shaped desk.

"It appears we have the pleasure of a visitor," one jelly-fish like alien announced, his fellow pink diplomats chimed in unison. "We are honored, may the Enkindler's light bless you." The first hanar continued independently, his body flashing blue as the words emitted. "This one welcomes you to our humble embassy here on the Citadel. How may this one help you today?" _"Oh god, this is going to be painfully slow and awkward." _

"I'm here regarding your moon, Serra." The hanar seemed to whisper amongst each other, their tentacles wiggling. Murdock took a step back, unsure of what the jelly-fish had in mind. _"If they attempt strangling me, I'll have a story to match one of Massani's." _The middle hanar bounced, as if with excitement.

"This one wonders, are you here to put down the sinner?"

A wave of confusion shivered through Murdock."Um, I'm sorry, sinner? I'm here for the bounty you posted." When the hanar said nothing, he continued. "For a Subject Zero? The one who crashed a space station on your moon?"

"Yes, this one refers to that one as the sinner. She is most troublesome. Please, have you come to restore the Enkindler's light to our moon by destroying the sinner?" Murdock nodded, his confusion gone. "Enkindler's light bless you, bounty hunter! We thank you humbly for your bravery in seeking such a job." _"Yes, yes, get on with it." _

"Glorious days! Praise the Enkindler's! This one suggests we send our new ally with Taylok to Serra. With two Enkindler warriors, the sinner shall not stand a chance against such might," another hanar said. The other pink creatures chimed their agreement. Their pink skin illuminating blue as their voices rang with excitement, their levitating bodies bouncing.

"This one agrees!"

"So does this one!"

Murdock struggled not to roll his eyes.

"Then it shall be so! May we please ask for your humble name?"

"Mur . . .," the thought finished but the name did not. The feeling in his gut was unexplainable, but he felt the need to lie. "Murtock. You can call me Murtock." The questioning hanar waved his tentacles in merriment.

"Splendid! The Enkindler's have blessed us with your arrival, Murtock! Allow us to summon our Compact, together you two can work together on destroying the sinner." The three floating jelly-fish touched tentacles as if fist bumping. Murtock scrunched his face in alarm, stepping forward.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second here! I don't need _help_, I work best alone. I'd rather not split the payment." He sliced his arm through air, hoping to get his point across. The hanar turned to statues, as if angered or confused by the gestured words. Murtock braced himself for rejection, but instead was surprised by their words.

"No worries Murtock, this one assures you all credits offered will go to you. Our Compact heeds no income from us and is honored to serve. We assure you of this."

Murtock shifted his stance, folding his arms as the other hanar agreed. He looked from one to the other, finally resting his gaze on the centered hanar, assuming that alien was most important.

"You guarantee this?"

The hanar raised a tentacle as if accusing him of some treacherous act. "Yes Murtock, may the Enkindler's forsake us should we lie." The other hanar agreed again, easing Murtock's ill contempt. His arms fell back to his sides relaxed. Past experience had taught him jobs typically didn't work like this; so for the reprieve, he was grateful. But he was also suspicious. "Lying is shameful. Such treason we will never commit. You have our word, Murtock."

"I'll hold you to your word then. Where can I find this … Compact of yours?"

The diplomats made a sound resembling laughter.

"You won't find him Murtock, he will find you." Murtock inclined his head suspiciously. _"Okay . . . Not sure how I feel about that one." _

"His name, is Taylok," one of the three hanar supplied. It was impossible to tell which one.

Murtock nodded, refolding his arms. "Okay. Is there a form of contract I can sign?"

"No contract is necessary. This one has seen your face and with Compact confirmation, or photo identification of the dead sinner, we shall reward you appropriately. Have no fear Murtock, our word is golden."

Murtock gritted his teeth. _"It damn well better be." _

"Okay. Anything else I should know?"

"That is a question for Compact Taylok, Murtock. Now respectfully, we must request you take your leave. We're very sorry to say so, but our work here on the Citadel is never complete nor on break. Our time talking has been a great pleasure. This one wishes you great fortune with your task, may the Enkindler's light your path."

"Doing business has been a pleasure. Thank you for your time."

* * *

On a feasible list of possibilities outlined in Murtock's head, a partner was not one of them. The only partner he had ever known was Zaeed Massani, and that man was more companion than partner. Zaeed always acted on his own agenda, much like Murtock . . . How well would things work with someone new to that system? Let alone someone he had never met who happened to be an alien? Murtock couldn't help but worry as he retrieved his baggage from the C-Sec officer below.

_"Shit do turians know how to hold a grudge," _he mused mentally, due to the turian's rough return of his belongings. The officer had shoved them back into his arms without the slightest hint of hesitation, his face impassive. Murtock walked away smiling, his stomach grumbling in hunger. Unaware of how he should find the hanar Compact, he decided eating wouldn't be a bad idea.

Murtock wandered the Citadel for a half-hour before finding a suitable restaurant. It was an outdoor eatery, obviously popular for its terrace overlooking the Citadel's false landscape. Murtock found it hard to believe the gorgeous Citadel sights were just mirages manifested by the keepers. Prothean technology amazed him.

The salarian waiter arrived a minute after he sat down.

"What beverage may I serve you today, Sir?" Murtock flipped the menu over in his hands, his eyes skimming, but not reading.

"How about a rum and coke? You can do that here on the Citadel, right?" The salarian bobbed his head, his beady eyes widening.

"Nothing we can't do here. Will be back with drink shortly," he said, already striding away. Murtock watched solemnly, then turned back to the terrace railing only to find a broad, black vest.

Murtock fell off his chair in alarm, his senses shocked into adrenaline as he stood to face the sneaky bastard. "Who the hell are you?" His fists balled as other patrons began to observe the scene. Murtock's green intruder tilted his head, his black eyes blinking twice. _No_, not twice, he had _two _sets of eye lids.

"They call me Taylok. I am a Compact to the noble hanar race. Are you … Murtock?"

Murtock's shoulders drooped, the hair on the back of his neck settling as relief cascaded. All symptoms of danger faded as the salarian returned, nonchalantly setting the dark drink on the table. He looked from the distanced Murtock to the drell standing by the round table. Beady eyes fell upon Murtock. "Table for two?"

Murtock nodded. "It looks that way." The salarian hummed, turning to the drell with precise movements. Taylok asked for a glass of water while Murtock reclaimed his seat, kicking his belongings beneath the table. With the waiter's swift disappearance, the drell sat down across from him gracefully, his hands clasped on the table. Murtock stared at him, his reptilian face void of emotion. "Do you always greet people like that?"

"How so?"

"With the whole sneak up and scare the shit out of them type deal," Murtock groaned, drawing a cigarette. The drell blinked, his inky eyes locking on the cigarette as if it were poison. Murtock noticed."What? You mind?" The drell's eyes shifted from the unlit tobacco to meet his questioning stare.

"No. But if I were to have Kepral's Syndrome, then I might."

Murtock lit the cigarette and inhaled before plucking it from his lips. His gray brows furrowed as he exhaled. "Kepral _what_?"

"Kepral's Syndrome. It's a disease that effects my species ability to breathe," he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Murtock shook his head as the salarian appeared out of nowhere, placing Taylok's water in front of him. "Thank you," he said, getting a smile from the waiter. _"Great, he's just as civil as the jellies." _

Murtock smoked quietly for a time, his eyes never leaving the drell. Unbeknownst to Taylok, who started straight back, the man was actually studying him with intrigue. Murtock had never met a drell in person before, and because of such, found the alien fascinating. The pink cheek gills engrossed Murtock, for he had never seen anything like it on a sapient-being before. Taylok broke the table's muteness.

"Something bothering you?"

Murtock leaned back in his chair exhaling. The drell didn't so much as twitch when the smoke drifted at his face. He only blinked."Nope. I've just never met a drell before," Murtock confessed.

The alien nodded, his expression unchanging."It isn't uncommon for a human to say such things. We have been a dying race for centuries, after all. Meetings with humans here on the Citadel is most common for my people. However, I can't say I've ever heard of a situation quite like ours."

Murtock cocked a brow as he inhaled."Yeah, me either. I usually work alone."

The drell smiled for the first time. Such an expression seemed to make the alien's face stretch vertically, but Murtock dismissed his imagination.

"I figured as much. I too, usually work alone."

"You're a merc? Could've fooled me." Murtock leaned sideways in his chair to note the alien's wiry strength as he said so. He also spotted the concealed sidearm hid under the drell's black vest.

The drell frowned, shaking his head. "No, not a mercenary. I serve the noble hanar as a Compact. In other words, I'm sworn to obey them, even if it means sacrificing myself."

Murtock killed his cigarette and whistled. "Boy did you get the shit end of the stick. Serving jellies for life? Sounds like slavery to me."

The drell's frown deepened, his blinks growing more rapid. _"It's about time I got some emotion out of him," _Murtock thought.

"No, not slavery. Not at all. Serving as Compact to a hanar family is a great honor among my people. You see, the hanar saved my people from extinction many years ago. As repayment, my people serve as Compacts for the hanar." He placed a hand on his chest, as if Murtock was confused. After a few moments of serenity, Murtock laughed purposely. He wanted to test his new partner.

"So what do you do for the jellies exactly? Clean their tentacles?"

In a tornado of motion, the drell unclasped his hands to replace them with a pistol in seconds. Murtock pursed his lips, his chest tightening but his expression unfazed. _"Not bad for a jelly slave. That was slick." _His heart beat amplified as the gun slid forward, green finger testing the trigger. Murtock didn't bat an eyelash, instead he glanced at the gun then held the drell's unbreakable stare. Looking into the shrouded blankness of such heartless eyes, Murtock seized the opportunity to make his move. With one smooth motion, he smashed the drell's wrist and wrenched the gun free, but by the time he took aim, the drell had another gun ready. Both beings sat casually aiming at one another over the table, their hearts pounding like drums. It was unexpected when the drell sheathed his second sidearm and smiled.

"Most Compacts, such as myself, work as assassins for the hanar," he explained, sounding cheerful. Murtock smirked, sliding the first weapon back across the table. "Thank you," Taylok said, reholstering the pistol.

Moments later, the waiter appeared out of nowhere. "Are we ready to order?" The waiter asked, oblivious to the table's tension. Taylok met Murtock's stare unyielding.

"Shall we?" The drell's eyes blinked in amusement, his delight undying.

Murtock nodded at the alien. _"I hate to say it, but I might come to like this asshole." _

* * *

**A/N: I apologize this chapter was shorter than most, but hey, maybe that's a good thing for some of you! Next chapter, the story hits one of its bigger parts. Said bigger part's introduction, would have made this chapter way too long. Anywho, thanks for reading and reviewing! Keep the reviews coming, I love seeing what my readers have to say! Thanks for the support, see ya next time folks! **


	5. Welcome to Serra

**Bioware owns all Mass Effect content.**

* * *

**Breaking Barriers**

"That's yours?" Murtock asked, the docking ramp stretched on for another hundred yards. His gaze fell upon a slender, oval-shaped star cruiser the size of a small house. It's silver paint was brand new, rounded with black lining, and small canons poking beneath the cockpit.

The drell smiled at the conspicuous cruiser, a sense of pride evident. "Yes. This ship was granted to me for my assignments as Compact." He clasped his hands together behind his erect back, his stance pompous.

Murtock nodded in approval. "Looks capable. It has FTL travel?"

"Of course. My masters update me frequently with their best technology to ensure my assignments are completed." Taylok took a few steps up the ship's small docking ramp, then turned to Murtock. "I presume you don't have a vessel?"

Murtock shrugged. "Don't need one usually. I get around on passenger shuttles."

"Fair enough. Yes, this ship is mine and is more than capable of taking us where we need to go." He turned back to the ship, then looked over his shoulder at Murtock. "Shall we?"

Murtock waved his belongings at the ship. "After you, jelly slave."

The drell ignored the name and strode up to the ship doors. The steel doors slid apart immediately with the very essence of smoothness. Murtock quietly followed the drell onto the ship. He found the ship's interior to be no less impressive than the ship's exterior.

The spotless floor matched the curved chrome walls in color. Across from the ship airlock he found a pair of lockers along with a small medi-gel compartment. Further down the ship's floor lit path, the two seat cockpit opened wide across the ship's front. Behind him, a lonely cot sat against the wall, with a vid-com console across from it. Between the two instruments, another steel door resembling the airlock door took up residence. It was locked with red lighting. Murtock finished surveying his surroundings with a satisfied nod. Taylok gave a small smile of pleasure.

"It's no home, but I find it cozy. It sees me through my assignments well enough." The airlock doors hissed shut, killing any outside noise. "You can move your things into the locker on the left. I'll enter our coordinates to Serra."

Murtock did as the drell suggested. Only he removed his pistol from the equipment case when Taylok's back was turned, holstering it against his belt beneath his shirt. Despite knowing the Compact for only an hour, he got the feeling there were little to no secrets between them. So far, Taylok had been polite, honest, and to the point. Murtock saw no reason not to trust him, or his jelly masters for that matter. _Mistrust was simply a habit_.

Walking away from the locker to the co-pilot seat, he found himself content with the decision due to the fact that Taylok remained armed.

"So let me get this straight, she managed to hijack a space station?"

Taylok punched in the last of the moon's coordinates before leaning back in his chair. He blinked, then initiated the ship's engines. The sound was merely a high-pitched hum, hardly noticeable.

"Yes. A gateway station owned by the Systems Alliance. Rumor has it she purposely crashed it on Serra to destroy a turian outpost responsible for killing her fellow pirates." The drell looked to Murtock, his brow patches raised. "Creative, but reckless. The accuracy of that rumor is beyond me. However, she is certainly on Serra."

"How do you know?"

The drell smiled, his head tipped towards the ship's rear. "Go to the vid-com. Watch the last message."

Murtock stood looking dubious. He made his way down the ship's length as the ship itself detached from the docking ramp. When he reached the console, the floor shifted gently beneath his feet as the ship ascended. _"No turning back now," _he reflected, activating the console. True to the drell's word, he found the latest transmission labeled: **Serra, Cycle 8, 10:34. **He started the video only to witness static. He looked away at the drell, who just flew into Citadel airflow.

"Uh, jelly slave, what am I supposed to be looking at? It's just static."

The drell put a single green hand in the air. "Wait for it."

Murtock returned his focus to the console, his eyes searching the spitting static. At the speed of an elcor, the static began to fade, a round face becoming visible in a pitch-black background. The man's face was unrecognizable because of the lack of lighting, but in the background other voices cried out in fear and pain. The ubiquitous cacophony of mingled voices was enough to draw the interest of an arrogant krogan. It was impossible for anyone to ignore the transmission's sheer panic.

_"OH SHIT! THE VARREN," _someone screamed in the background, the man's head twisted away from the screen. _"OH MY GOD! They're trying to get in! Someone help me seal the doors!" _Wildly the face came back to the screen, the messenger now panting in evident fright. A shadowy hand passed the screen upwards, a heartbeat later, a tiny blue light splashed across the man's face. It revealed a pair of close-set eyes, bloodied nose, and an incredibly dirty face. His expression was frantic, his teeth caked bright red with blood. At last his torn lips pulled apart to speak, his tone one of desperation.

_"If there's anyone out there! Systems Alliance, Illuminated Primacy, ANYONE!"_He paused to press his face against the screen, sounds of movement thundering past him. Yanking his head away from the console's light to stare after the noise makers, he came back to the screen and gasped. _"This is Arthur trade station! We've been hijacked by a biotic and crash landed somewhere near Kahje, our navigation systems are fried and we're in desperate need of help! I repeat, we need help ASAP!" _The blood-curdling sound of a shrill, piercing scream echoed, drawing the man away from the console. The sporadic cries continued as the man rushed away to help, the screen fuzzing into nothingness once more. The last comprehensible sound from the transmission was what Murtock would call a death sentence. _"AH IT'S GOT MY LEG! IT'S GOT MY LEG!" _Then abruptly, there was nothing. Static fizzed the screen into darkness, leaving Murtock to stare bewildered. The thought of facing varren unarmed in the dark with Subject Zero lurking was one to make his skin crawl. But he didn't voice such thoughts to the drell, who said nothing as he sat back down.

Together they watched the Citadel arms stretch out with them into deep space, the gigantic station soon fading into background. Only then did Murtock voice his evaluated thoughts.

"This is gonna be a mess," he said, not peeling his gaze from the endless space before them. Taylok allowed himself a wry smile.

"I believe a mess would be lightly spoken. This has become quite the galactic affair."

Murtock groaned and lit a cigarette without asking. "Yeah, the whole fucking neighborhood's gonna be there. Alliance, mercenaries, maybe turians ... Fucking moon's gonna be a war-zone. It'll be the new krogan DMZ by time this shit show's over." Taylok smirked as if he found Murtock's frustration amusing.

"Indeed. My masters are most displeased with intrusion on their sacred moon. Such will result in a major political debate for years to come. Let us hope the situation is defused quickly with the removal of our target."

Murtock scoffed, smoke bellowing from his lips. "Once we kill Zero, _if_, we kill Zero, things will still be heated. Stranded humans on a hanar moon? The Alliance will be extracting for days, the dead and the living."

Taylok nodded, his eyes blinking as the bright aura of a mass relay came into view several clicks ahead. "Are you doubting our chances of success," he asked out of the blue.

Murtock inhaled and exhaled dramatically, as if pondering the question. After a time he turned to the drell and said, "Our chances of success are the same as everyone else on that rock. You either win, or you lose."

Taylok accepted the answer by bobbing his head, the ship readying itself for FTL travel. It was unexpected when the drell looked his way again.

"And what do you do, Mr. Murtock?"

"I just get the job done."

* * *

Serra's surface was barren, desolate, and dry, coated in reddish-brown sand. The only significant land markers were craters left behind from centuries of meteor abuse. Other than gaping craters, the hanar moon was no different than Luna, Earth's moon. It even held a similar mass density, with a fragile ozone layer. Due to such, oxygen-equipped hard suits were needed for land travel, so Murtock was glad he spent the extra money for such three years ago.

"Some rock your masters got here." Murtock blew smoke from his fourth cigarette, the drell showing no signs of irritation.

"This moon was once worshiped and inhabited by the Enkindlers, that gives it great meaning to my masters and my people. Of course, Serra has always been contested."

Murtock raised his brows, eyes not lifting from the endless miles of sand flowing beneath the ship. "Contested?"

"Yes. Serra has always been cherished by my masters, and many of my own people for that matter, but aggressive turian military expansion at the command of the council has interfered with the moon's tranquility. Now, the moon is constantly argued over, though my masters refuse to engage in conflict. I think them wise for doing so."

Murtock nodded mildly. "Yeah, leave peacekeeping to the jellies."

The drell blinked, his eyes sifting back to the ship's scanners, which had found the downed space station the moment they entered Serra's atmosphere. Now it was just a matter of locating the crash site, which both men agreed would be easy.

A sudden thought occurred to Murtock. A _very_ important question. "How can I guarantee your masters will pay me when the job is done?"

Taylok straightened, pursing his lips tightly, as if dismissing the question. Murtock was about to repeat himself when Taylok responded. "Through me. Allow me to elucidate once we reach our destination." Murtock bit his lip. _"Not good enough, Abby's life can't just be a gamble. I'm not here to waste my time, I'm here to earn my credits and go home. Damn jellies and their peculiar ways." _Taylok must have noticed his discomfort. "My apologies, but during flight, it would be most difficult to outline the contract."

Murtock turned his head at the word, the cigarette falling to the ship floor burnt out like the rest. "Contract? Well, why didn't you say so," Murtock chuckled, a wave of relief flooding through him.

Taylok smiled. "Most people believe hanar promises and don't need such reassurance. But you're not just an average person. You happen to be a mercenary, how do humans say it? 'A completely different breed of animal' . . . Something like that."

Murtock shrugged. "I've been called worse. We getting close to this rock's only ornament yet?"

Taylok nodded, his jaw tightening. "Very close. Suggest you suit up, scanners have the distress signal within range." The drell palmed a red button, spawning a holographic hanar between their chairs. "VI, estimate time until destination." The purple graphic buzzed robotically, then chirped, somewhat hurting Murtock's ears.

"Estimated travel time to reach destination is approximately: ten minutes, fifty-two seconds. How else may I be of service, pilot Taylok?"

Murtock gave the drell a sideways look. "You have a virtual intelligence aboard?"

"Of course," Taylok replied nonchalantly, "What ships don't have a VI these days?"

Murtock scoffed as he stood up. "The good ones. I'm gonna get my hard suit on. Don't take any sharp turns."

"I'll be sure to take as many sharp turns available," Taylok said, yet another smile spread across his face. Murtock rolled his eyes, and made for ship lockers. _"Damn drell smiles too much. Like he knows something I don't . . ." _

Murtock opened the locker and carried his equipment case to the ship's cot. From there he unsealed the case and stripped down to his underwear, dropping his clothes unceremoniously to the floor. Next, Murtock pulled out a set of moss-green Hahne-Kedar armor from the case onto the bed, catching sight of his face in the gleam. Squeezing into the hard-suit's tight under layer, he began fitting the armor piece by piece, careful not to miss any straps or buckles. Once fully dressed, save his oxygen-fitted helm, he walked back to the ship's front, weighing roughly thirty pounds more. His once concealed sidearm was now on display at his hip. Taylok didn't so much as budge at his return.

Taylok glanced down at the ship's scanners again. "We're getting close. Scanners picking up various frequencies. We're not alone here."

Murtock placed his hands on the co-pilot seat, staring straight ahead at the moon's surface again. "Looks like we're the last one's to the party. Good, I like to make an entrance," he joked.

"I think making an entrance will prove difficult beca‒‒," Taylok's voice died, his mouth falling open. Murtock saw exactly what he was gawking at, his blood-flow spiked.

It rose from the sea of sand like a great behemoth, it's tall cylinder-shaped head stabbing the sky. It was beached indefinitely, half-submerged in a mile-long trench of its own making. The terribly decrepit looking monster seemed as if it had died years ago, rather than only a week ago. Flying over the massive beast to the source of detected anomalies, one could find it's broken jaws spread wide, it's teeth sparking with failed power. Taylok and Murtock were in an unbreakable stasis at the ineffable scene below, for it was far worse than they had thought.

Murtock's spirits sank further at the sight of the provocative village hugging the dead space station's maw. A dozen ships and make-shift structures dotted the sand below. At least thirty ants scrambled ineptly amongst the outpost as Taylok circled to land. It was impossible to read the drell's disposition, so Murtock posited his own thoughts.

"This isn't gonna be pretty. Not one bit."

The drell blinked, his lips curling into a frown as he focused on landing. "Well what would you have me do? Landing somewhere else would be foolish. They would consider us hostile."

Murtock bit his lip, his gloved fingers drumming the seat. "Son of a bitch. When we land, dress quick. I might need backup, we don't know who's running this place. Could be Alliance, but I'm hoping for mercs."

The drell glanced up at him, away from the landing procedure. "Why?"

"If it's just mercs, then we can dispose of them if need be."

Taylok didn't reply, instead he activated the ship's landing gears, the other ships growing larger with their descent. Within ten yards from touching down next to another starship, the scurrying ants were revealed to be a mix of factions. Species galore were represented, and every single one had teeth. Murtock eyed them unhappily, his expression a solid grimace. None of these bystanders were here by chance, they were all here for Subject Zero, and he was well aware.

The Compact's starship died down with a whirring noise as the ship completed its landing, outside forces closed in. Right away Murtock moved back to his equipment case to retrieve his prize possession, an M-22 Eviscerator. The drell appeared at his side confounded as he unloaded the shotgun's current weapon clip. Murtock had to smirk as his hand reached back into the case to produce a stack of incendiary serrated wedges, each clip glowing a luminescent orange.

"Standard ammunition not enough?" Taylok questioned, his brows raised.

Murtock clicked the first incendiary wedge into the shotgun's chamber and spun to face him. "Get the job done, or go the hell home. There's no way I'm missing out two million." The rest of the unique shotgun shells were latched on to his his utility belt. "When the time comes to kill Zero," Murtock paused to pat his sidearm, "I'll use this not to disfigure her."

Taylok blinked, nodded, and sat down cross-legged on the cot. The drell proceeded to close his eyes, and dip his head in solitude, as if forgetting Murtock's presence. It was Murtock's turn to question the alien's intentions.

"Gonna let me go out there alone?"

"No, but must mentally prepare myself for what is to come. You can choose to wait, or go. The decision is yours."

Murtock wasn't the indecisive type. He snatched his helmet and pulled it over his mass of hair, already making for the door. Pumping his shotgun in case of hostility, he extended for the door panel reluctantly. _"Here goes nothing." _Without any more thought, he hit the panel, allowing him into the ship's miniscule decontamination center. Red lasers examined him, then the ship's interior doors sealed, and the exterior doors opened, emitting a malevolent glare from the luminous landscape. Murtock shielded his eyes, trudging down the ship's ramp to where a large retinue of beings awaited him. It took several seconds for his eyes to register to the malicious environment, but when they did, he found himself staring at an indistinguishable Alliance officer. To Murtock's far right, a line of Alliance soldiers kept a string of mostly non-humans at bay. The discord over there was as obvious as the officer's cordial posture.

"Halt, in the name of the Systems Alliance Military," the officer commanded, raising a hand. Two soldiers flanked the burly man, their assault rifles lowered, but readied. "I'm Major Adam Kolinsky of the 101st platoon, stationed here on orders to liberate any survivors from Arthur station. Please state your name and business here now, or take your leave."

_"Oh Alliance military, how fun." _

"My name is Micheal Murtock," he lied, "I'm here for the fugitive known as Subject Zero." One of the Alliance soldiers next to Major Kolinsky sniggered, getting Murtock to raise his shotgun. "Think that's _funny_?" Both soldiers brought their rifles up to bear, their sights trained on Murtock as the major defused the situation.

"Stand down, all three of you goddammit! This situation is complicated enough without us shooting one another. We're not here to start a war dammit. Stevens, Abraham, stand down. That's an _order!_"

Both men lowered their weapons, "Aye, aye," falling from their lips. The major shook his head at the soldiers' lack of discipline.

"My apologies for that impediment, Mr. Murtock." The major bowed his head slightly, then cleared his throat. "I'm also sorry to inform you that this crash site is off limits to civilian personnel of all levels. I kindly ask you to re-board your ship, and leave Serra immediately. The custody of the fugitive Subject Zero belongs to the Systems Alliance, no objections."

Murtock frowned, casting a glance at the non-Alliance beings to his right. "What about them? You telling me they aren't here for the same reason I am?" The major shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Those dissidents refuse to leave Serra, and continue to protest their claims to the fugitive. But we're under direct orders from Alliance high command to secure this area, extract civilians, and capture Zero. Resistance will be terminated upon the arrival of Alliance reinforcements. If that's not clear enough, ask the batarian we gunned down this morning." The major gestured at his fellow soldiers, hoping to intimidate Murtock. The attempt failed miserably.

Murtock nodded at the protesting aliens and pointed. "I like what their doing. I think I'll take my chances and stay for awhile, like the rest of em'." The major seethed with anger, but kept it inaudible. "Problem, Major?"

"Not at the moment, Mr. Murtock. Stay the hell away from the space station and our base camp, or there will be a problem."

"Fair enough. That hobble of trash bins behind you what you call a base camp? I bet the wrecked station looks better inside." The major gritted his teeth and stalked away, his bodyguards following with haste. Murtock watched them go, then witnessed the other Alliance soldiers recant, enabling the bellicose protesters to approach him.

Sand kicked up into the air as the biggest alien stomped over to him, red helmet eyes glaring after the human soldiers. Murtock felt his muscles tighten when the krogan stopped beside him, the giant lizard dwarfed him. Murtock prefigured belligerence from the alien, but instead was greeted with an amicable nature. The krogan's voice rolled out like thunder beneath the black helm.

"Did they give you the same bull shit they gave us?"

Murtock shrugged, "Yep, pretty much. You here with Blood Pack? I saw you standing with those vorcha."

The krogan uttered a deep hum. "Once, yes, but no longer. Now I work for personal gain." The krogan stared back at what could only be his starship fifty yards away. There two vorcha tinkered with their guns, both looking devilish. "Gray and Core are good lackeys," the krogan eventually muttered. He looked down at Murtock, heavy shoulders rolling. "So what's your story? Here for Zero?"

"Yeah, let me guess, me and everyone else over there," Murtock indicated the other starship parties sitting outside their respective ships. The krogan followed his gaze and nodded.

"Yeah. You, me, and everyone else over there."

The major's threats came back to Murtock's mind. "Who'd the dead batarian belong to?"

The krogan chuckled, low and cruel. A short, muscular arm directed Murtock to three batarians at the far end of monolithic community. "Slavers, would be my guess. Their leader didn't comply with the Alliance, so they shot him." The krogan paused, as if taking the time to grin beneath his helmet. "I laughed when it happened."

Murtock smirked. "Idiots. What else can you tell be about our neighbors?"

The krogan shrugged, his boulder-like shoulders disrupting the ground's equilibrium. For a second, Murtock worried the sand would give way to some pit, but the fear passed swiftly as the krogan began listing his knowledge.

"Blue Suns are here, they're packing five men, well equipped, well trained. Then there's some annoying human with a band of misfits, they don't ever shut up . . . And then there's the turian. A slick bastard, I think he's up to something."

"Like what," Murtock asked, getting another shrug.

"Who knows. There's also an asari here, but she keeps to herself. Don't know what her motive is." The krogan shook his head as if tired. It was hard to say how long Gaara Jaq had been here, but his information proved useful. Knowing all the players would come in handy in the near future. "You got a name, human?"

Murtock was surprised at the krogan for asking. Most krogan could care less for such commonalities. "Yeah, name's Murtock. What's yours?"

"Jaq. Gaara Jaq, if you want the clan name, but their long dead and gone."

Murtock tried his best to feel sympathetic for the krogan, but fell short by a mile. Something told him the krogan could care less about his clan, he seemed too reserved and individual. Not to mention built like a tank and in his prime. "Well, nice meeting you Jaq. Let's keep in touch in case things get heated."

The krogan grunted. "Are you suggesting an alliance?"

"Most likely a temporary one, but yes. If the Alliance get any ideas, our best bet is joining forces." Murtock gave the nearest Alliance solider on guard duty a hard stare, as if examining a new species. "Otherwise they'll wipe us out in less than five minutes, and if I had to guess, you'll be the last of us to go down."

A throaty rumble echoed from the krogan. "If that happens, I'm snapping at least one of them in half with my bare hands."

Murtock smiled, going as far to pat the krogan's buff arm in a lazy manner. "That's the spirit. I'm going back on my ship to fill in my partner, keep me posted, eh?" The krogan nodded and lumbered off, leaving Murtock satisfied enough to re-board Taylok's ship. Stepping into the decontamination center, his mind raced with the situation's possibilities. Nearly twenty-five mercenaries and probably close to forty Alliance troops ... the place could turn into a free for all in the blink of an eye. If that was the case, the major would emerge victorious without a doubt. That would be a walk in the park if the military had the leisure of mercenaries killing one another over a bounty. Unbeknownst to Gaara Jaq, that was why they were still alive, the mercenaries had all parked close to each other as if forming a unity. Murtock regretted not telling Taylok to park closer to their ships.

The ship's interior opened, allowing Murtock to walk straight into the drell. Both of them reeled, Mutock removing his helmet as he gave the alien a look up and down. Taylok appeared to be wearing a black glorified, wet suit. The helmet in Taylok's hand was the only reason Murtock knew what the apparel was.

"You call that a hard suit?" Murtock asked, his expression incredulous as his helmet fell to the floor. It was relieving to respirate without a helmet on, and Murtock wanted to enjoy it.

Taylok glanced down at his feet with arms spread wide. "It suits me. Also helpful for stealth and subterfuge, but I can tell that's not really your field of expertise."

Murtock snorted, plopping himself on the cot, shotgun rolling from his hands to the bed. Taylok's eyes followed him suspiciously. "You learned something. Well, what did you find out? Military zone? Mercenary dispute? Space station inaccessible? Subject Zero already de‒," Murtock threw up a hand, sighing as if the weight of the galaxy had fallen upon him. Taylok recoiled at the gesture, his arms folding for the first time since meeting on the Citadel. "Then what is it? What did you find out?"

Murtock batted a thick gray cord of hair from his face to look at the drell."Before we get into specifics, I want my contract negotiated and signed. I'm not doing this for free like you, I'm no jelly slave."

A flicker of discontent passed Taylok's face, his wrist raising to project an omni-tool display. Hundreds of holographic texts flooded past with a swipe of the drell's hand, his soulless eyes searching as if infallible. At last the drell found the appropriate text, enlarging it for Murtock to read.

Taylok's voice came out bored and methodical, "This is the standard contract for employed killers developed by the Illuminated Primacy. It's mostly used for Compact assassins such as myself, but it states that: 'should the hit, job, or assignment fail, do not contact your employer regardless of any outcomes. Your fate is your own, and the Illuminated Primacy has disowned you from any future employment. In the event that your hit, job, or assignment is successful, collect valid proof of the hit, job, or assignment's completion, and return to your employer with such proof in your possession. If the hit, job, or assignment is deemed completed by your employer, you will receive the immediate funds promised to you by the Illuminated Primacy.' In your case, two millions credits was promised by my master, yes?"

Murtock nodded, his face lighting with confusion. "I thought you worked for free? Like it was an honor and shit."

Taylok pursed his lips while dismissing his omni-tool's holographic display. "In most cases, I get paid like a normal assassin would. But there are some cases, such as this one, where the Illuminated Primacy is concerned for public safety of galactic peace. When this becomes the case, fellow compacts and I volunteer to serve free of charge. We are in great debt to the hanar, and so we serve them freely without morals whenever they feel endangered. Such is the case in war, for example."

Murtock stood, his shoulders bristling. "I don't like being lied to, Taylok. Make sure it doesn't happen again, got _it_?"

The drell didn't so much as twitch, his expression hollow. "Understood. I uploaded the contract to your omni-tool. Be sure to fill it out if you want to guarantee credits from my masters."

"Thanks," Murtock replied, his tone dry and aged as he eased back down onto the bed. He was all too aware of the green alien's observant eyes analyzing his every move. Taking time to gather his thoughts, Murtock relieved Taylok of his anticipation, "The Alliance military have the crash site quarantined for extraction. No surprise there, the major in charge already requested we leave."

"A shame, I was hoping Zero would be waiting for us with a white flag." After the jape, Taylok flashed confusion. "What did you tell the major?"

"Well, that's where the other outcasts like you and I come in. Outside our ship there about five other ships, each temporarily housing mercs. Long story short, they all want to get after Zero, just like us."

The drell leaned against the lockers looking thoughtful. "One would think the Alliance would want help containing Zero." Murtock weighed the words in his head, but lost against rudimentary human logic.

"No, the Alliance want to capture Zero for themselves and haul her off, that way they can present themselves as galactic peacekeepers and maintain power over the council. It's all a bunch of political bull shit. Trust me, we humans are selfish like that."

"All species are like that," Taylok mused, a smirk slipping across his face.

Murtock shrugged in return, "Sureee, but most of them don't go out of their way to get noticed as much as we do. It's annoying."

"But out of our control. What did you find out about the mercs?"

_"Not one for recreation, this guy's strictly business. I can respect that," _Murtock thought to himself.

"A former Blood Pack krogan gave me quite the run down. Apparently we're dealing with Blue Suns, some batarian slavers, an all human merc group, and a few independent contractors. Nothing ridiculous, but all of them look well prepared for being here. It's obvious they all want Zero."

Taylok shifted his back to the locker, his gaze honed in on the airlock door as if expecting it to open. "You were right then."

"Damn right I was. One big fucked up mess."

"My masters won't be pleased when I send them the assignment's first status report. At least the Turian Hierarchy isn't here ... The major didn't mention anything about turians, did he?" The drell tore his gaze from the doors to Murtock.

"With the Alliance on top of the food chain right now, your only Citadel presence on Serra is gonna be the Alliance themselves." Murtock drew his pistol, tossing it between hands. "The jellies shouldn't have much to complain about … _yet_."

"My masters will still want to be informed on the Enkindler's moon. It is a cherished piece of their religion and my own."

Murtock leered at him. "You worship the protheans too?"

"Yes. The hanar saved us from certain extinction, why not adopt their faith? It hasn't failed us thus far in the galaxy. In fact, I only exist thanks to the hanar, not to mention the Enkindler's light." The drell shrugged. "But religion is not important at the present moment. Do you know where Zero is?" A shake of the head was all Taylok needed to confirm her whereabouts were unknown. "Figures. Perhaps the major already has her in custody?"

"No, not by the way things sounded," Murtock rejected his theory. "My best guess is she's still in the station somewhere." Taylok sighed while Murtock moved to the cockpit to light another cigarette.

The musty scent filled the air after the first puff, causing the drell to don his helmet. Both contracted killers became deathly silent, and the irony was absent. There was nothing humorous about their predicament, as it actually infuriated them both. It was like a riddle with multiple solutions. But with the overwhelming numbers against them, they were at a loss for suitable solutions. So the riddle would remain unsolved, and they would remain on Serra, patiently waiting for the unknown to unfold.

Suddenly, there was scraping knock on the ship doors.

Taylok's hands flew to his handguns as he approached the door panel. He looked at Murtock who continued smoking, then activated the door's display panel. Murtock had already guessed by the sound of the knock who it was. He was right. A miniature holographic turian appeared in front of Taylok, his posture subtle and relaxed.

"Who are you," Taylok asked, the turian tilted his head at the ship's exterior camera.

"Your worst nightmare, just kidding, now let me in. I have a proposition for you."

Murtock smirked, he knew the turian well.

* * *

**A/N: HOORAY THE STAGE IS SET! Welcome to Serra, and let the hunt for Subject Zero truly begin! Sorry this chapter took longer than most, but with so much entering the story, it took some time! Thanks for those of you reading and reviewing, please keep it up! I absolutely love the support guys! Thanks again, and hope to see you all here next time! **

**P.S (Yes, Serra is a fictional location. I couldn't find the hanar moon's actual name. I also assume it's not Kahje's only moon, but for the sake of the story, this particular hanar moon is named Serra)**


	6. Taking Out the Dogs

**Bioware owns all Mass Effect content. Also, from now on Murdock's thought will just be italics. No quotations. Hopefully that avoids some confusion! Now please enjoy! **

* * *

**Breaking Barriers**

The drell blinked at the hologram, then turned to Murtock in the extremist solemnity possible. It was as if Taylok's face had endured cryogenic surgery to ensure it didn't loosen. The drell's serious demeanor amounted to that severity, and made Murtock almost shift his weight with discomfort. Almost.

Murtock met his partner's dramatic, questioning stare, with a face of unperturbed calmness. Smoke seeped from his lips as he answered the drell's unspoken question, "Let him in. I know him."

Taylok creased his brow and frowned. It was obvious he hadn't expected such an answer from Murtock, but he obliged nonetheless. An aura of unease settled over the ship as Taylok emitted their visitor, then leaned against the lockers for decontamination to complete its cycle. Murtock smoked in revered silence, his eyes locked on the door. With the ship's visitor surviving decontamination, he stepped aboard, all six foot five of him. Dressed in silver military-grade armor, with what Murtock recognized to be an M-92 Mantis latched to his back, the turian was unmistakable. The removal of the helmet sealed Murtock's suspicion, and ultimately raised his spirits. He now had a predictable variable.

"Selvis, what's a clown like you doing here?" He demanded, a scowl settling on his face.

The turian whipped his head from Taylok to Murtock, his ice-blue eyes widening within their dark sockets. For a moment, the turian's mandibles dropped as if ready to fall off, then they snapped shut. A clawed hand shot to the turian's hips, his chest puffing out.

"Who you calling clown? Seen yourself in a mirror lately? I think I see half of Sur'Kesh's insect population living in that jungle of a head you call hair." The turian's flanging laughter filled the ship's interior with a nonexistent cheerfulness. Murtock and Taylok simply watched him, their postures suggesting a lack of comical approval. The turian stopped laughing to glance between them, "Oh come on, you two are like Afterlife. Everyone's so damn serious in that place, it drives me crazy! But hey, Murdock's a professional. A real business man, you don't like to get sloppy, I get it. It's just been awhile, thought a joke was needed, that's all."

Taylok's eyes widened while Murtock mentally killed himself at the turian's incompetence.

So much for professionalism. Murtock moaned mentally, nearly flinching when Taylok addressed him.

"Mr. Mur … dock, is it? If I recall correctly, you told my masters your name was Mur-tock, with a 't'." The drell's soulless eyes seared into him, making him increasingly grateful for the cigarette in hand. It kept him relaxed. "Why lie? Is there something I should know, Mr. Murdock?"

Selvis was at an awkward loss. He was actually scratching the back of his neck in confusion, craning his head towards the floor. He looked back up as Murdock replied coolly.

"Nope. So mind your own business, jelly slave."

Taylok's ambiguous expression gave away nothing. Only the tension of the ship's interior had amplified, but such was anticipated from a lie. Serving as neutral ground, Selvis was in what Murdock knew to be his favorite position. Sure enough, it didn't take Selvis long to try and lighten the mood.

Throwing his lean, leathery arms wide, the turian's arm span took up a quarter of the ship. "Whoa, whoa there ladies. Let's not rush to conclusions. Right now is not the time to wage war against each other. Trust me, that part comes later, after we deal with the Alliance dogs. Agreed? Good. Then you two can kill each other and make my life easier. See, there, everyone wins!"

"Glad to see you haven't changed," Murdock said, dropping his cigarette to the ship floor. He stomped the life out from it then looked up, "You got a plan? Or you just reaching for the sky like usual?"

The turian feigned being hurt, only stopping to smirk. "Do I have a plan? Is that even a question? Come on, open your eyes and look at who you're talking to! Of course I have a plan! When don't I have a plan?"

Murdock rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase the question. Do you have a plan that will work?"

"I fail to see the benefits, why should we help you?" Taylok asked the turian, who smirked yet again.

"Well someone's short-minded … Or are you just, selfish? Look, the benefits are pretty clear, we eliminate the Alliance guard dogs and we get access to the space station. That's why we're all here, isn't it?" He looked at them both earnestly, only to rest his gaze on Taylok. "To kill or capture Subject Zero? You know, the raging lunatic of a biotic? Yeah, that one."

"Quit beating around the bush, Selvis. Tell us this plan of yours," Murdock said, folding his arms. His eyes slid from the turian to the door, a depressing thought surfaced. "You realize by coming on board, those 'dogs' are gonna know we're up to something. Right?"

Selvis nodded. "Yeah, but who knows, humans aren't the smartest creatures." He hinted a smile, but Murdock didn't so much as twitch with humor. The turian waved a set of talons in irritation. "Okay, so you figure out how to fix that while I brief you two on the plan. How's that sound? Work for you? Good, cause it works for me."

Murdock let out a sigh and nodded lazily while Taylok continued his solitary staring. It seemed as if Taylok was observing the end of a planet's life cycle, rather than watching Selvis enunciate.

"Okay, so first things first," Selvis said, starting to pace. "We know the Alliance aren't moving, so we're going to have to dispose of them. And yes, by that I mean kill the bastards. Siona and I have discussed all our options and that seems to be our best choice by far. If we continue to sit on our asses and play in the sand, their reinforcements will arrive and kills us. I'd rather not die anytime soon, so I say strike first. With me so far?"

Murdock held up a hand, his brow furrowing. "Who's Siona?"

"She's an asari. The only one here, actually. She and I hit it off the first night and ever since have been plotting to remove our Alliance obstacle. She's qualified and as much involved with this plan as I am. Trust me, we won't have any shortcomings on her end of things."

Murdock shook his head and chuckled. "You would be one to enjoy slithering between those nice, soft, blue legs … wouldn't you?"

The turian shot a glare, then went back to smirking. "Laugh it up, if she hears you … Well, let's just say you'll wish she hadn't. That girl has some serious biotic power, whew, let me tell you about it later." Selvis had to take the time to close his eyes and grin, as if reminiscing a pleasurable piece of past. "Long story short, our plan is unify the merc groups and go head-to-head with the dogs."

Murdock laughed, "That's suicide."

"Don't count your credits short when marketing," the turian replied sharply, quieting Murdock. "Do that and you're bound to run into trouble."

"Explain," Murdock spat the word out, his scowl resetting. He wasn't a fan of witty people, especially witty turians. Despite beneficial mercenary work with Selvis in the past, Selvis maintained the top of his list for annoying.

"The Alliance dogs parked their frigate five clicks out from the space station, but only after setting up their base camp. Said base camp, keeps them in contact with the frigate via communications relay. If this relay were to come under some sort of mishap … Well, let's just say the dogs will lose their bark." The turian chuckled, sounding devious. "In total, Siona and I think the platoon's majority is stationed here. Roughly thirty soldiers, the rest are bunked on the frigate. Which is where I'd want to be If I were them, glorified guard duty in the luxury of a military frigate? Shit, sign me up! "

Murdock let out a shuddering sigh of annoyance. "So say the relay goes down, what's to stop the merc groups from turning on each other? Are they even on board with this plan of yours?"

Selvis sighed in aggravation. "You always have to be so specific. As of right now, no … But when the Alliance opens fire on us, their either with us or against us. Anyone not on board we'll kill in the fighting." Selvis sighed again, this time sounding defeat. "To be honest, that's where I was hoping you would come in. Siona and I have the Blue suns with us, but the other merc groups have kept to themselves. I saw you talking with the krogan on what looked to be good terms. I was hoping you could swing something."

Murdock tilted his head, a wry smile lighting his face. "It just so happens I might be able to. But what's your plan for the relay? Who's gonna knock that out?"

"Siona has a charge ready," the turian supplied, "But we don't have an effective way of deploying it. We were hoping you could help with that somehow too … Look, I never said the plan was perfect, okay?"

Taylok shifted, making himself known. "Far from perfect indeed. Sounds foolish to me."

"You got a better idea, jelly slave," Murdock asked, getting the assassin to smile.

"Actually, yes. I can't take part in the fighting due to Compact restrictions, but deploying a bomb? That type of assignment suits me well. So long as I'm not harming any Alliance soldiers in the process."

Selvis and Murdock exchanged a look of intrigue.

_It's about time the drell showed his true colors... _

"We could create a distraction," Murdock suggested, sparking life on Selvis' face. "But this shoot out's not gonna be pretty. We're gonna need a way for the other mercs to be armed and ready."

"A confrontational approach," Taylok whispered, raising his head. "Brilliant."

"Yeah, let's just hope it works."

* * *

"I never took you for someone with such crazy ideas," Selvis told Murdock, as the decontamination center did it's work. Murdock said nothing, grabbing the yoke of the turian's armor. "Hey easy, the doors aren't even open yet."

"So? I like to make things believable." Murdock grinned, tightening his grip on the turian. "I never took you for someone I'd call slick."

"Slick? Well, I consider myself good-looking, if that counts. Who called me slick?"

"The krogan, now shut up. The door's opening."

Sure enough, the ship's decontamination process completed and the doors whooshed apart to reveal an indomitable sunset. The sun's clear power bounced from the red-hot sand straight to their visors, the glare relentless in its assault. Accompanying such vehement rays, was now a howling wind that buffeted sand into the air, like water against rock. The sand piled in dunes at the base of the make-shift Alliance structures, giving the once lively base a sense of abandonment. Any Alliance eyes on guard duty had retreated to building entrances, hoping to escape the wind. But they hadn't left their post, as pieces of Alliance soldiers could be seen constantly poking about near the structures' perimeters. In theory, the mercenaries didn't have a better time to strike.

"Well, here we g—," Selvis' voice abruptly changed to a grunt, as Murdock shoved him down the ship ramp. The turian stumbled for his balance wildly, finally crashing face-first into the sand below.

"WHO PUT YOU UP TO THIS?" Murdock yelled at the top of his lungs. His voice boomed like thunder, drawing the eyes and ears of many nearby.

Selvis flipped onto his back, taking his time to glare before responding, "N-No one! I mean, I-I wasn't—," Murdock cut him off again, this time with his voice.

"SHUT UP! WHO PUT YOU UP TO THIS?" the shotgun in Murdock's hands took aim at the turian.

"Whoa, okay, OKAY! Don't shoot! It was the krogan, I swear," Selvis rolled to his side, pointing a talon.

Murdock looked to his right, the other merc bands staring back in curiosity. He also noted the few Alliance soldiers watching, hoping such a scene would entice them. If it didn't, the plan would fail miserably.

"GET OUTTA MY SIGHT!"

Selvis scrambled to his feet, and ran in the opposite direction of the other mercs, seemingly into nowhere. His long strides loped across the barren ground faster than Murdock had imagined, but he couldn't take the time to watch. Besides, the turian was distracting the Alliance guards, and he needed their eyes on him.

Not knowing how else to retrieve their attention, Murdock drew his sidearm and fired one shot into the air. Bingo. That got their attention back.

"GAARA JAQ!" he shouted, the krogan turned his head away from the vorcha. "GET OVER HERE, YOU SON OF A CLOACA!" the words tasted like bile. Everyone knew it was taboo to insult a krogan …. Especially for no apparent reason. Murdock wasn't a stranger to such common knowledge.

"YOU SENT THAT TURIAN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he continued to shout, getting the krogan to take a few steps his way. _That's it. Come on, work with me dammit._ "C'MON! DON'T BE A PUSSY YA MANGY PYJAK!"

That insult hooked him. Through the wind's sand-spit, the krogan marched with his vorcha in tow, the other merc bands inching closer to watch. So far, so good. Now it was just a matter of everything else working out.

_"Nice thinking on getting the dogs' eyes off me. That's something I would have thought of,"_ Selvis' voice came through him helmet comm. link. _"So far things look good. The krogan took the bait?" _

Murdock lowered his voice. "Yeah. And Taylok seems to have slipped past everyone."

_"Good. Siona, is he with you yet?"_ A silence long enough for Jaq to reach Murdock ensued. Only then did the asari's voice patch through.

_"Yes, I'm handing him the charge now. That stupid lizard take the bait?" _

"_Yes, alright people, stick to the plan. This will be like taking candy from a baby,"_ Selvis cooed, sounding much more confident than Murdock felt. Then again, the turian wasn't staring an angry krogan in the face like Murdock was.

"Puny human, why do you insult me so," the krogan growled, his fists balling into small clubs.

Murdock tried to keep his voice low, steady, and audible. "Look, this is a farce to trick the Alliance. We're trying to take them out. Just play along with it. And be ready to run when shit hits the fan."

The krogan leered at him, the rage in his stance seeping to confusion. The krogan snapped his head at the Alliance base, where three soldiers stood staring a few yards away from one of their bunkers. They seemed to convince Jaq of Murdock's explanation, but it was hard to tell with a krogan.

"You'll pay for your insolence, human!" the krogan snarled, stomping forward.

Murdock reared, his heart leaping from his chest as he brought the shotgun up to par with the krogan's head. That stopped the krogan in his tracks, but made his subordinates take aim with their assault rifles. For a long time, Murdock expected death to greet him. At this range with no cover, his shields and armor would be rendered useless against the two vorcha. All he would be able to do before dying, is maybe take the krogan with him. Thankfully his death wasn't imminent, as Jaq soon revealed his intent.

"Fight me, coward! Let's test our strength! See who's the real pyjak here... "

Murdock let out a sigh of relief, Siona voicing encouragement in his ear. _"Keep it up, we got eight soldiers watching now, and your friend is on his way with the charge. I'll start trying to recruit the other mercs and line up shots. Selvis, are you lined up?_"

_"Is that even a question? What do you take me for, a volus merchant? Of course I'm lined up. Got a nice, juicy human head in my scope as we speak."_

Murdock swallowed, the charade reaching its zenith of difficulty. "Bring it, lizard breath." Again the words tasted awful, but if the scene amused the soldiers … it would be worth the breaking of morals. At least he hoped.

The krogan roared and closed the short distance between them, batting the shotgun from his hands. Murdock watched it fall to the sand questioning his sanity, as the krogan seized the collar of his armor and lifted him off the ground with one monstrous hand. Murdock dipped his chin into to his chest to meet the krogan's expressionless helmet, trying to imagine the krogan's face. He regretted the decision when the krogan's head lurched forward to perform an infamous krogan headbutt. The brute force of the krogan's crest against his chin and chest sent him flailing through the air, crashing to the ground with a thud.

Void of any breath, Murdock slowly crawled to his feet like a clown on stilts. The vorcha cackled as Jaq approached again, this time with a fist at the ready. The swing went high as Murdock ducked, and not thinking, attempted to tackle the krogan. He met a tenacious rock of armor, flesh, and bone, nearly breaking his shoulder in the process. Jaq simply grunted, and threw him to the ground again with ease. This time Murdock rolled to his feet immediately, adrenaline igniting throughout his body.

"Please tell me he's almost there," Murdock gasped through the comm., watching Jaq storm towards him once more.

_"Couldn't tell you,"_ Siona replied, _"Your warm-blooded friend didn't bother to connect to our frequency." _

_Of course not. He wants me to get thrown around by a krogan_, Murdock thought gloomily.

Once in range, Jaq threw a right hook that Murdock dodged, followed by another left hook. The second swing hit Murdock's shoulder like a thirty pound hand weight, spinning him like a top. Jaq grabbed his gut and laughed while Murdock recovered his footing. Seeing an opening for retaliation, Murdock briskly grabbed the krogan's shoulders and drove his helmet into Jaq's. The result was disastrously effective, as both combatants backpedaled to keep their footing.

Jaq shook his head and froze to the spot, as if petrified. Murdock copied him, then stared back unwavering. The moment of stunned silence climaxed with a distant explosion that shook the ground. Everyone, Alliance soldiers, mercenaries, and even Murdock dropped their focus to stare in awe at the plume of black smoke rising from the cluster of Alliance bunkers. Murdock's heartbeat spiked at the sight of all ten Alliance soldiers looking away, their backs turned. Murdock's eyes tripled their normal size. _Now. Shoot them now._

As if answering the silent prayer, a single, ear-splitting crack echoed. Murdock couldn't help but grin as the nearest Alliance soldier crumpled.

The doorway to hell had opened.

* * *

**A/N: And here we go! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, now things get hectic! Also, I've acquired a beta-reader! AgentZyiana is now beta-reading the story for our convenience! So everyone give her a big thanks! Thanks for reading folks, feel free to drop a review as they're greatly appreciated, and see you next time!**


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